


Actively Dying

by Jamalyn



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamalyn/pseuds/Jamalyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamato comes searching for his younger brother whom he fears has fallen victim to the seedier aspects of the yakuza scene, only to discover that his brother isn't the one who needs rescuing. Can Yamato come to terms with the fact that sometimes, it is the people who are most in need of being saved who are also the ones that saving would hurt the most? [Takasuke, Daiken, Yamasuke]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Swimming Through Sick Lullibies

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the main reason I signed up for an AO3 account. There is one, itty, bitty (imho) non-gratuitous sex scene. This no longer flies at ff.net (boo!). So I'm here. And frankly, I like here better. *grins*
> 
> So, anyway: AU, obviously, unless I missed the episode where Takeru and Daisuke hooked up with Ken's crime consortium. Fair warning: I do not believe in wrapping things up with pretty little happy bows—life is rarely so kind.
> 
> And Ken just might be a little Kaiser- _ish_. Maybe. Or rather, what I imagine Ken would have been like had he found himself in the kind of environment where embracing rather than excising the "Kaiser" within would have been a bit more _socially acceptable_.

 

**"So _tell me: have you ever done something, anything you've regretted at a later date?_**

**_Of course you have. We all have. But then, I don't suppose this is the same as running off to a concert late at night or trying to paint the cat. I wish I could say that I possess the moral superiority to hate everything and everyone connected with this part of my life. But I cannot. And if that is what condemns me, I've accepted it."_ **

Yamato frowned at the cryptic words of his brother's letter. Leave it to Takeru to be anything but obvious. When most kids wanted something from their older brothers, they just asked, didn't they? Why then, all the verbal games?

And why did everything have to be so damn hard? Yamato sighed for what had to be the umpteenth time as he slid the letter back into its well-worn envelope, pausing only momentarily to scowl at the return address, or rather, the blank space left clean by the lack thereof, before tucking it back inside his pocket.

It wasn't as if Yamato had not wanted to hear from Takeru. On the contrary, he had done everything he could to find the younger boy when he had disappeared more than two years earlier, all to no avail. To suddenly have a letter show up in his mail box, his name scrawled in vaguely familiar handwriting, could have easily been seen as an answer to both his prayers and those of his too-quickly aging parents.

Unfortunately, that seemed to have been the last bit of good news that Yamato might hope to receive, if he were to judge his prospects from the worn down, ratted out and thoroughly tagged part of town that he had been led to by the letter in question. To make matters worse, Yamato noticed that he had somehow managed to attract the attention of a street punk, who stood, eyeing him openly with an ugly glare from under one of the few street lights along the street that had not already lost its illumination from either a stone or worse. When the boy noticed that Yamato's eyes were now on him as well, it only served to deepen his scowl, a hand clinching tight around the pair of well-worn goggles hanging limp around his neck.

Yamato fought the testosterone flair urging him to take the young stranger up on his unvoiced challenge. But then, getting picked up by the cops for smacking around some idiot kid was definitely _not_ part of the plan. No, Kido had said to meet the guy in the bar and so meet the guy in the bar he would. Not that that could keep Yamato from tossing his own, slightly smirky sneer towards the boy before turning and walking into the neon-lit building.

-8-8-8-

Daisuke allowed his eyes to close for a long second, fighting the pain that was trying to build his chest. It was no small wonder that Ken had insisted that he come for this one. He pushed himself up into a straighter position, eyes rolling heavenward even as he begged for the gift of patience from a god he no longer believed existed. Now, what the blond thought he was doing was another question all together, and frankly, one that Daisuke did not really want answered. But knowing that did not seem to keep his feet from carrying him inside the dank bar, nor did it stop his eyes from searching out the blond, sitting at a booth in the far back, for a moment, the nostalgia of the situation nearly overwhelming his better senses. Thankfully, reality, bitch that she was, was more than willing to rain on that particular parade. Daisuke snaked his way to the back table.

"Seriously," Daisuke could not keep the frustration out of his voice, "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Yamato had not even noticed the boy enter the bar and yet here he was, angry fist rapping against the table, causing it to rattle on its uneven footing. Not that Yamato was one to be thrown off by angry, young punks. No, on the contrary, he had been dealing with this particular mentality for years. He felt himself fall easily into the unimpressed persona he used for NPSC interrogations. The fun ones, where he got to be the bad cop.

"Look kid," Yamato's eyes broke away from Daisuke to glance at the person who had just entered the bar before turning back, bland in their banality, "I'm waiting on someone." Yamato motioned Daisuke away, "So why don't you just run along and play somewhere else."

Even compared to all the arrogant, all the self righteous, all the dumb-blond things Daisuke had heard, or rather, been forced to listen to in his short life, this might, just might be the worst. Daisuke could feel his annoyance taking over his better senses, "Don't—" Mercifully, the waitress chose that moment to bring Yamato the drink he had ordered, her cheery greeting saving them both from the very real possibility that Daisuke's head might explode.

"Oh, hey Daisuke," she smiled, "Long time, no see." She set the short glass in front of the blond without even acknowledging him.

"Hey 'Kari," Daisuke brushed her off. There was a time when such a friendly greeting from the girl would have made his day, but such childish whims had long since been relegated to a nearly forgotten past. Now, as fickle fate would have it, that which he once wanted more than anything would be the very thing that hung him.

"Daisuke?" Yamato picked up on the name all too easily, "Did she say Daisuke?" he asked, his eyes brightening as he turned to look, really look at the boy. Daisuke sighed.

"No," he complained, "She didn't say anything," but he knew the blond did not actually buy it. Daisuke was never that lucky in real life. Hikari, at least, seemed to get the point, tucking the money Yamato had laid on her tray into the pocket of her apron before hurrying back to the counter without another word. Daisuke watched as she rang the till, seemingly engrossed in counting and then recounting the wad of bills she had been keeping in her pocket even as he could tell she was fighting the urge to sneak a look in their direction. Finally, Daisuke gave in, sliding into the booth next to Yamato, but not without yet another gusty sigh.

"Look," Daisuke began slowly, his voice so low that Yamato had to lean in to even hear it, "I don't know what you think you're going to find," Daisuke claimed, though his tone seemed to suggest that he knew perfectly well, "But you're not going to find it here," he promised, "So you need to leave. Just go." And he might just have managed to sound convincing had he not made the mistake of glancing over, catching the bright blue eyes staring up from the head bent in his direction. Too much, it was too much. As it was, Daisuke only managed to rise each morning by first convincing himself he would not have to face those eyes, only slept each night by promising himself that he would never have to make an accounting in the face of those eyes. But here they were, quiet, questioning, wanting answers, answers that Daisuke was not sure he could give. And so Daisuke did the only thing I could. He looked away. He looked away and begged, pleaded for a reprieve.

**_Would that I could, kid, would that I could._ **

And Daisuke could understand that much, understand that all sins must be paid for at some point. So why not now? Why not here? Why not in the most painful way imaginable?

**_Oh please, stop being such a fucking drama queen. It's not like this is what I wanted, either._ **

Yeah. Sure. Whatever. It was all Daisuke could do to keep from rolling his eyes. Dumb fucking blond. This isn't your fault at all. Hardy-har-har-har. Fix it yourself, then. I don't have the time or the patience to play idiot games. Daisuke pushed his way out of the booth, sparing the blond not so much as a glance over his shoulder as he headed out of the bar.

Yamato watched the younger boy, surprised at first when he broke eye contact so unexpectedly, then, strangely, even a little worried by the oddly stricken look that had come over his face and the white-knuckled clutching of the goggles hanging loose around his neck. But nothing had prepared him for the fact that the boy would suddenly push away from the table, making for the door with nary a word in Yamato's direction.

"Whoa! Hey, whoa!" Yamato slid out from behind the table, quickly following after the red headed boy, "Come back here." He caught up with Daisuke just as he was at the door, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back around. "Wait as second, would you?"The younger man seemed intent on ignoring Yamato, going so far as to keep his face turned away even when Yamato shook him, frustrated. "What the hell—"

"Shut up." Daisuke still refused to look at him, his eyes pinned on something just over his right shoulder, "Just shut up and let me think about this."

"Huh?" Yamato was visibly confused, dropping his grip on Daisuke's shoulders even as he took a step back, "What do you—" Daisuke held up a hand to silence the blond, brown eyes flickering over only momentarily, sharp in their annoyance.

"Of course not," Daisuke answered dismissively, "Don't be a fucking idiot." There was a short pause before he continued, "I know that. Duh. I'm not the idiot blond."

"Hey—" Yamato began only to snap his mouth shut as he was pinned with another ugly glare, Daisuke motioning across his mouth the not-so-subtle suggestion that Yamato should zip it.

"And you think Ichijouji's not going to notice?" Daisuke asked, "Or what, just let him poke around? Does that seem like Ichijouji to you?"

Finally! Something Yamato understood. "Yes," he agreed, reaching out to grip Daisuke's shoulder, giving the boy a little shake, "Ichijouji. I want you to take me to Ichijouji- _san_." It took a moment, but Yamato's request finally seemed to work its way through to Daisuke, the boy stilling almost imperceptibly before turning to face Yamato, a look akin to disbelief coloring his face.

"You," he demanded, drawing in a deep breath as if it were all that stood between he and total mental collapse, "Shut. Up." Daisuke looked back to his right before grumbling, "You could have told me he was a fucking asshole."

"Look, kid," Yamato complained, fast coming to the end of his own rope, "I don't know what conversation we're having, or what conversation you _think_ we're having, but enough is enough already. Either take me to Ichijouji or…"

Yamato did not get to finish his thought, his body folding neatly against Daisuke's as it crumpled forward. It never even occurred to Yamato that he had been hit before he lost consciousness. Daisuke lowered his limp form to the floor gently, setting him against the wall before walking over to the counter where Hikari stood watching the scene, no longer even attempting to hide her interest.

"Do me a favor," he asked the short haired girl, offering her a small smile as payment, "and make sure he gets a taxi," Daisuke nodded to where he had left Yamato propped against the far wall.

"Okay, sure," Hikari promised, her head cocked to the side even as she studied the oddly lonely look in Daisuke's eyes, "But where to?"

Where to, indeed. Was anywhere really safe anymore? Daisuke just shook his head, "Anywhere but here," he sighed, "Anywhere but here."

-8-8-8-

**_Daisuke usually liked to sit too close to the jukebox, to listen to the heavy beats with his face pressed up against the booth seat, a hand protecting his free ear, forcing the harmonic noise filter its way through ply board, foam and bone before announcing itself to the brain._ **

**_He always came to this same grubby little bar when he needed to get away, take a break. He had told Takeru that it was one of the few places where he could really think, where his mind seemed clear and any problem, whether it be some bothersome moral dilemma or something much more practical like how to go about getting into and out of a building within his self-imposed time limit, could find its own solution. Takeru had laughed, but then he had always claimed to prefer silence._ **

**_But noise was Daisuke's natural bedfellow. It reminded him of the taiko drums at the old Shinto shrine near where he had lived as a child, of sitting on the edge of the bricked path and feeling the beat of the drums in the strangest of places as the large paper carps fluttered in the current above. Closing his eyes, he would almost swear that each heavy thrump was landing on him rather than the taut membranes mere meters away._ **

**_He had only realized that she was there when he felt the edges of her kimono brush over his splayed fingers. He was happy though, young brown eyes glancing up to grin at much older ones._ **

**_"Daisuke," she had mouthed, cool, delicate fingers brushing through his hair in some mad attempt to control it._ **

**_Daisuke tried to picture her, as she would be now. The eyes would appear older, perhaps more tired or, maybe, sad. Or at least he hoped that they would carry with them some semblance of sadness._ **

**_He hoped that he had meant that much._ **

**_"Daisuke!" The hands were roughly shaking him out of his half-dreamlike state; sharp nails pressing into his shoulders painfully. Miyako looked scared, out of breath. "You have to go," she begged, the pleading tone to her voice striking Daisuke as decidedly odd for one usually so exceptionally composed. He looked deep into her, his eyes asking the question his mouth refused to form. What, or rather, who?_ **

**_"It's Takeru."_ **

-8-8-8-

Daisuke cursed himself for his body's involuntary flinch, blushing lightly at the idea that he had been spooked by the sound of the door sliding open. He glanced, sighing, at the room's newest occupant before returning his gaze to where it had been focused, a stone lantern in the compound's garden only a few meters from where he currently sat on the small room's built-in window bench.

"Mmmm?" Ken hummed softly, his languid motions easy and unhurried as he made his way over to Daisuke, reaching out, when he was close enough, to run a soft hand through Daisuke's hair with an affectionate murmur, "I must have forgotten that you had moved in here." Ken's gentle smile did nothing to hide his cold, almost annoyed indifference. Rather it only strengthened Daisuke's resolve not to acknowledge Ken's more than obvious lie.

That much, at the very least, seemed to provide Ken with some heartfelt, if all too momentary, amusement.

"To be honest, I half expected to find layers of dust and old cobwebs," the hand moving through Daisuke's hair gave a short tug. There were few things Ken would willingly tolerate for a shorter amount of time than being purposefully ignored, "I must say, you've kept it quite nicely." What began spoken easily enough ended cold, clipped, leaving Daisuke little doubt as to Ken's true feelings as, once again, the room lapsed into a heavy silence.

Ken's hard, waiting stare became all but palpable. "Look at me." The voice was low, barely even audible, but the implied threat was enough to make Daisuke turn empty eyes in Ken's direction. Ken stared into those eyes, looking, it seemed, for something that was not there—that perhaps had never been there, the hand still tangled in Daisuke's hair tightening further and further, painfully, before suddenly releasing its grasp. "You remember him too fondly, I'm afraid," Ken gave Daisuke a sad, almost wistful smile, "He was never as wonderful as you imagined him to be."Again, there was a long pause before Ken continued, his voice barely a whisper, "I wish you could see that." Daisuke could not doubt the sincerity of Ken's tone, fighting hard against the urge to look away at Ken's painfully whispered, "I really do."

Daisuke swallowed dryly. "Ken…" he begged, his voice raspy, worn. Daisuke cleared his throat lightly, gathering his words carefully, "I-" Ken held up a long white hand, stopping Daisuke's explanation before it had even been formed.

"It doesn't matter now," Ken spoke with determined assurance, "The present will always be of more concern than the past." He allowed his hand to trail slowly down the side of Daisuke's face before continuing, his skilled voice tuned to its most didactic tone, "How else could we ever hope to make it to the future?" Again, that sad, sad, frigidly cold smile, "I only wish that you didn't always insist on making everything so difficult." The hand that had come to rest along Daisuke's collar bone curled in frustration, sharply manicured nails biting into tender flesh for a long second before suddenly relaxing.

"I know," Daisuke agreed softly, fighting the innate urge to knock away Ken's hand and rub out the still lingering sting. Instead, Daisuke pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around them and inadvertently giving Ken a place to sit.

The tall man smiled, his hand dropping from Daisuke's shoulder has he gracefully settled in close.

"I understand why you like it here," Ken admitted, turning his head to gaze out on the garden, "It really is beautiful." Ken gave a relaxed hum, leaning forward so that his weight rested against Daisuke, his head lightly pillowed on arms draped across Daisuke's knees as he eyes continued to scan the garden.

"When I was younger—" Ken stopped abruptly, seemingly surprised that he had even uttered the half dreamy words at all. He shook his head, a line of stiff annoyance seeming to straighten his shoulders momentarily before he relaxed against Daisuke's knees with a sigh.

"I've been told that spring is the _thing_ ," Ken shrugged, an ironic smile twisting his lips for only the barest of seconds, before his head turned to look up at Daisuke, "But I don't agree," he announced emphatically. Ken watched Daisuke closely for a response only continuing when he became certain that none was coming, "It is winter that has the true power over life and death." Ken lay his head back on Daisuke's knees, his eyes turning back toward the garden, "If winter never ends, spring cannot exist," he insisted matter-of-factly, "It is really power and not silly flowers that is truly beautiful, is it not?"

Daisuke shifted uncomfortably at Ken's words, feeling trapped in the suddenly too small alcove, but too afraid of dislodging, and thus angering the dark haired man to really attempt escape. "But winter always ends," he reminded Ken carefully, frustrated by the way his voice too clearly scratched out his uncertainty. It was taking all of Daisuke's willpower to school his heavy, claustrophobic breathing into something, anything that might resemble calm ease.

Ken's short laugh was hard and completely lacking in humor, "Don't make a mistake," he warned, closing his eyes to block out the cold-washed landscape, "Just because something always _has_ happened, doesn't mean that it always _will_."

Daisuke sighed, nodding his agreement, his eyes never leaving Ken's face. Ken seemed to be content to stay draped across Daisuke for as long as it would take to test his theories first hand. He did not even seem to notice, or so Daisuke thought, the lock of his hair that had slipped from behind his ear. Without thinking, Daisuke moved to push the few loose strands back, startled to discover that Ken was suddenly sitting upright, violet blue eyes narrowed with hate, even as he held Daisuke's hand an arm's length away in a hot, painfully tight grip.

"Idiot," Ken spat, his body slowly unfolding as he stood carefully, never losing his contact with Daisuke's eyes even as he dropped Daisuke's wrist with unconcealed disgust, "Why do you always insist on being such an _idiot_?" Ken shook his head, and for a split second, Daisuke thought that the angry eyes might almost be brimming with real tears as Ken continued to swear shortly under his breath, " _Goddamned fucking_ _ **idiot**_." It was only after this last acerbic sentiment that Ken broke eye contact, turning his back on Daisuke with an aggravated snarl, "I've decided to put Ishida in here." The statement was clipped, cold, and thoroughly unnecessary as Daisuke had long since heard of Ken's decision through the usual channels.

Still, the fact that Ken had gone out of his way to deliver the news himself told Daisuke all he needed to know about Ken's true motives.

"Ken…" Daisuke mouthed the name more than spoke it, not even really sure himself what it was he was hoping would come from the very nearly silent appeal.

But if Ken had heard quiet request, he did not acknowledge it, his attention instead focused on brushing at some imaginary piece of lint marring his otherwise impeccable suit. Then, having satisfied himself that any would-be blemish had been removed, Ken next set about aligning and realigning the crisp white of his shirtsleeves, his irritation with being unable to get them perfectly straight growing more and more palpable with each tensely ticking second, until finally culminating in a deep sigh of relief as he managed to get them set exactly as he preferred. It was only then that Ken turned and addressed Daisuke, straightening his back so that he now towered over the still seated boy, the crisp perfection of his black suit almost proving to be more intimidating than his displeased scowl.

Almost.

"I've sent someone to get _him_ ," Ken paused only momentarily before adding, "and I'm sure that they'll be back shortly." Daisuke did not bother to ask for clarification on the someone or the him. He would have be as big of an idiot as everyone seemed to believe him to be not to have already known, and so he just nodded. Ken glanced about the room again, no hint of honest interest in his eyes, "I would appreciate it if you had removed your belongings before then," he ended with finality, turning on his heal and immediately moving towards the door.

"Ken!" Daisuke's voice surprised even himself with its strained, almost insistent edge, stopping Ken were he stood, midstride, hand still reaching for the notch in the sliding door's frame. The room plummeted into almost instantaneous silence; Ken's narrow back ramrod straight, his entire frame to seeming to vibrate within the stilled motion. For the first time in a very long time, Daisuke found himself truly fearful of what it was that Ken would do.

"Please—" Daisuke began carefully only to have his words cut short by his own racing heartbeat.

Ken let out a low growl, venom dripping from each and every carefully articulated word, "You will not address me so _informally_ , Daisuke- _kun_ ," he instructed, his lip curling in an almost feral snarl as he slid the door open with a snap, "If you give me nothing else," Ken promised, "I _will_ have your _respect_."

Daisuke took a deep breath, his lips forming his request for forgiveness almost soundlessly even as his heart was roaring in his ears, his eyes unable to break their focus from Ken's fisted hands. At his obvious hesitance, Ken could only sneer, turning his head away in distaste. Without another word, Ken stepped carefully over the embedded track and, not even glancing in Daisuke's direction, he disappeared.

Daisuke allowed a full minute to pass before standing slowly, surprised by the heavy feeling of exhaustion that did not seem to want to leave his limbs even as he forced himself to walk to the still slightly ajar door. It was with trained movement and no hesitation, however, that he pulled he door shut, waiting until he heard the solid rap of wood meeting wood before giving over and allowing his body to drop with a weighty thud to the tatami below, unable to fight the crushing stream of memories that threatened to over-run his mind.

Still, from somewhere deeper in the room, a heartbroken voice refused to be silenced. It prayed.

**_"Ichijouji-sama"_ **

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Turning Saints into the Sea

 

 

Wallace set the filing box in the middle of the dusty room with a grunt. It wasn't that the box was heavy, per se, but in the sparsely furnished space there was nowhere to set it that did not require him balancing the weight past where his back felt should be acceptable. He stood, placing both his hands on the small of his back before stretching backwards with a groan, "Please tell me that was the last one," he begged good-naturedly.

Daisuke glanced up at the young man with a laugh. This room was really not that different from his last, the only true differences being that this one came fully equipped with a new recruit, more than moderately eager to prove his worth as a next-door neighbor and that where Takeru's room had had seat cushions padding the small window seat built-in to the alcove under the far window, making it a near perfect place to rest, this room did not.

Daisuke briefly considered sending Wallace back to take the cushions before dismissing the idea. When Daisuke had stolen them once before, Takeru duct-taped him to the floor in a state only describable as extreme undress and had left him for Miyako to find, nearly six hours later. Important lesson learned: Don't screw with Takeru's comfort. Especially if one has just imbibed an one liter bottle of barley tea. No, the cushions would stay.

"Nope," Daisuke answered, laughing again at Wallace's over the top show of relief, "I think that you've already gotten everything."

"Oh thank god," the blond haired boy dropped to the floor with a heavy whump, stretching his legs out long, "But seriously," Wallace paused momentarily, waiting until he had Daisuke's full attention before teasing, "I never would have pegged you for a plushie-man."

"Wha—" Daisuke began with a start before dropping the defense of his pride with a noncommittal shrug, "but they're kind of cute…" he ended sheepishly. Wallace laughed.

Just then there was a sharp knock on the wall next to the door and Miyako strode impatiently into the room. It was all Daisuke could do to stifle his laughter at the quick way she suddenly seemed to pull back and stand a little taller, her shoulders pressed conveniently back, when she noticed Wallace laying on the tatami. "Hey," she nodded in their direction, the very epitome of controlled cool, something that only served to needle Daisuke's funny bone that much more.

"Miyako- _san_." Wallace's simple acknowledgement was quite, humble and, most amusing to Daisuke, all-too-completely without even a hint of emotion. The kid would have be blind not to have noticed Miyako's overt preening as she deftly flipped her hair off her shoulders, smoothing and patting it into place. Still, Wallace's face displayed nothing beyond a vaguely blank alertness. Not that Daisuke found the emptiness concerning. On the contrary, it all made for a grand entertainment.

"Wallace was just helping me switch rooms," Daisuke offered casually, gleefully hoping to further needle the situation. He was hard pressed to keep from smiling as Miyako immediately snapped up the bait.

"Oh, really?" her voice took on a pitch that Daisuke had never heard before, her almost frightening smile somehow managing to swell even further, "That was awful nice of you, Wallace," she praised, ending her statement with titter that might _, possibly_ have been misconstrued as a giggle. Miyako coughed delicately into her fist in hopes of concealing the would-be vocal mishap before once again flashing a smile in the boys' direction.

Wallace cleared his throat uncomfortably, fidgeting nervously under the bright glare of Miyako's smile. So, Daisuke mused, the boy would crack if sufficient pressure was applied. That was okay though, he decided, they could work on that. Wallace had still shown significant natural skill. Not that that meant that Daisuke would help him out of the situation that he had all but pushed him into. No, those who teased the great Motomiya Daisuke deserved all the Miyako they got. Karma, as the local colloquialism told, was a bitch.

"Umm, well, I guess if that's everything…" Wallace began carefully, eyes darting over to where Daisuke sat in the hopes that some, any help would be forthcoming. Daisuke only offered the beleaguered boy a small, not terribly comforting smile, biting his lip so as not to laugh when the boy stood, sighing, "Okay then," he nodded. "I'm sure that you have something important you need to discuss," he actually risked a small smile of acknowledgement in Miyako's direction, but not before, quickly looking askance at Daisuke. Deference was a trait learned very swiftly in this environment. "I'd better scram." He brushed at the heavy dust clinging to his pants without much result, "Besides, I promised Michael I'd help him out with a job in Ikebukuro."

Daisuke shot the boy a lazy, two finger mock salute from where he still lounged against the tatami, "Okay, see ya," he promised, wondering vaguely how it was that Wallace planned to get past Miyako unscathed. Judging by the way he was slowly starting to circle the perimeter of the room, the plan was to get within dashing distance of the door before making a run for it. Oh, the young ones always underestimated Miyako.

"Hey!" Daisuke smiled, trying not to laugh when he noticed the boy's eyes light up at what might possibly turn into an offer of aid, "Thanks for all the help!" he finished plainly, unable to completely contain his amused grin.

Wallace's disappointment came through as only a momentary flash of pain before his good natured smile was firmly back in place, "Anytime," he assured Daisuke quickly. As soon as he was sure that he was close enough to make it through with only a short sprint, Wallace paused, offered a quick, if sincere, bow, first to Daisuke, who responded with another indolent wave and then to Miyako who seemed almost as if she might respond in kind before good sense got the better of her and she sent him on his way with an arrogant nod.

Daisuke held on to his composure as best as he could until he was almost sure the boy was out of earshot, finally releasing his heretofore simmering mirth through spasms of deep, gut wrenching laughter. Miyako scowled, waiting none-too-patiently for Daisuke to regain his sanity. It took a good two minutes, but eventually Daisuke was able to inhale enough oxygen to actually string together a few words, "You like him," he gasped, pointing out the door in the direction that Wallace had escaped.

Miyako scoffed, stepping forward to slap ineffectively at Daisuke's still gesturing finger, "I don't know what you _think_ you're talking about," she complained, tossing back her chin derisively.

"You do!" Daisuke insisted, eyes sparkling, unable to contain his mischievous grin as he continued mocking her in a singsong voice, "Miyako and the new guy, sitting in a tree. K-I—"

"Yeah, yeah," she cut him off impatiently, squatting beside and riffling though one of the boxes Wallace had just transferred to the new room before reciprocating, " _You_ like plushies!"

Daisuke flinched as his previously well guarded secret was blurted across the room, "You heard that?" he frowned at the way his voice went up two octaves, unable to look away as Miyako carefully sized him up with her eyes. Somehow the normally indifferent eyes contained an eerie glint.

"Maybe," Miyako finally conceded with a shrug, "I don't really know. What were you saying about me and that kid?"

Daisuke frowned at the mat, drumming his finger on its rough contours as he considered his options before finally surrendering with a sigh, "…Nothing."

Miyako gave him a toothy grin for his hard won acquiescence, "What's this from?" she asked lifting blue toy from the box, holding it by its ears for Daisuke to see, "It looks like a cross between a dinosaur and a…" she paused to study the doll, "bunny rabbit?" No, that did not seem quite right, "maybe, sea monkey?"

"Hey!" Daisuke complained, "Give that back," he insisted. The doll smacked him in the face. Miyako's interest had passed and she was back to digging in the box again. Daisuke rolled his eyes, "Get out of there!" He crawled over to shove her away from the box, but he was too late. She had already claimed her next prize.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I like this one." She held up a pink ball of fuzz with wings and a single red and yellow feather. "Can I have it?" she begged, bouncing up and down on her knees like a spoilt child, "Please!"

Daisuke rolled his eyes at her over the top performance, "Whatever," he complained, pounding the lid back on the thoroughly abused box before sliding it out of Miyako's reach. With a happy murmur, she squeezed the stuffed doll tight.

"So…" Miyako began again, once she was certain that Daisuke did not intend to reach out and take back her newest joy, "Rumor has it that the great Daisuke- _kun_ has managed to screw up royally—again." Miyako set the pink toy on her lap in such a way that made it seem like it, too, was watching and waiting for Daisuke's response.

Daisuke ignored both Miyako and the doll, opting instead for a hurt tone, "Again?" he questioned, turning his best puppy dog eyes in Miyako's direction. Not that she even noticed. She was too busy playing with that damn plushie.

"Again," Miyako confirmed matter-of-factly, smiling into the eyes of the doll without even the smallest inkling of concern for Daisuke's self-confidence, "Tell me, oh brilliant one," she continued, looking back up at Daisuke, "how you can make it all the way to Kari's, _meet_ this guy and _still_ manage to lose him before getting back here. Eh?"

Daisuke appeared bored, "What can I say?" he queried, his tone light, "The subway was really busy. Rush-hour, you know? I was lucky to make it back myself," Daisuke finished with a shrug, seeming far from concerned that his failure might suggest a lack of competence.

Miyako, however, was not so impressed by his flippant answer or attitude, "I'm being serous here," she complained, frowning in his direction as she squeezed her new toy tight. Daisuke was glad it was only a stuffed toy and not a real pet or she would have probably already snapped its spine.

Daisuke looked at her strangely, "Really? I wasn't under the impression that you ever actually wanted a _real_ answer," he admitted, "Wouldn't that be a little _too…_ ," he paused momentarily before quietly voicing his own concern, "inconvenient?"

Miyako's only response was an annoyed grunt.

"I guess…" Daisuke began slowly when he realized she had no intention of leaving without his explanation, or at the very least, something that might logically pass for an explanation, "I guess that I just didn't like him very much." He finished with a self-derogatory smile.

As the seconds began to tick by without him continuing any further, Miyako's frown deepened, "Bullshit, Daisuke," she growled, her voice low and clearly mistrusting, "You never like anyone," she complained, "What makes this guy so different?"

"Well…" Daisuke seemed to be considering the question very carefully. That is, until he actually answered, "Maybe I _really_ didn't like him." Daisuke gave her a wan smile. Miyako just rolled her eyes at the flippant answer, not buying it for a moment.

The room was quite for a moment or two as Daisuke silently observed Miyako, clearly mulling over her own thoughts and trying, as it were, to pluck the truth from between Daisuke's lies. So fixed did she seem on these thoughts, that it caught Daisuke by surprise when she fired point blank, "It's because he looks so much like Takeru, isn't it?"

It would have been difficult for Miyako not to have noticed Daisuke's pained flinch, but the all too obvious statement was already hanging heavy in the room's dank air, unable to suddenly become unspoken. Still, Miyako did her best not to look away as Daisuke considered her question, chewing at his lip, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to fire off a facetious remark on that particularly tender subject.

"Daisuke—" Miyako tried softly after a few more moments had passed without a response from Daisuke, "I'm sorr—" she paused, considering carefully what it was that she had been about to say, "I—" Miyako tried again before giving up with a gusty sigh, offering instead the question of, "Why?"

The soft question made Daisuke pause momentarily, licking his lips before giving her a bitter sort of smile. He pushed his body up from the _tatami_ with an easy bounce, smiling down on where she still sat, "Why what?" he grinned, the practiced nonchalance felt too real to actually be real. Miyako fought the urge to floor him with a swift kick to the shins.

" _Why_ ," she clarified, the line of her voice running hard at Daisuke's continued triviality, "didn't you just _do_ what Ken _asked_ you to do?" There was a pained, almost anxious edge to her question that made Daisuke want to apologize for having worried her. In the end, however, he just shrugged the question away, unsure that _any_ answer would have been sufficient to ease her fears.

"Daisuke," Miyako warned, her voice low, "I'm not stupid." Daisuke smiled at the obvious statement. "I know what you are thinking," she continued, "and it's crazy. Okay?" Her tone suggested that she wanted an answer, but she did not pause long enough to get one, prompting instead, "Just promise me that you'll remember that it's crazy." Miyako eyed him closely, waiting for his reply.

"Do you remember what Takeru used to say?" Daisuke asked suddenly, completely ignoring her request for his word, "Do you?" he asked again when she did not immediately respond, "He used to talk about how we humans were born only to die. How, from the day we entered this world, we are actively dying," Daisuke gave a bitter laugh, "I always said that he was an idiot, but in the end," Daisuke could not help the slight break in his voice, "In the end—he was the one who was right."

Miyako swallowed nervously, watching Daisuke carefully, looking, it seemed, for some telltale sign she thought should, or rather _would_ be there, but that, as of yet, she had not been able to identify. "Maybe," she spoke softly, almost to herself, but then, willing herself not to be afraid of the boy who stood before her, Miyako raised her voice so that he could not help but hear, "Maybe." She gave Daisuke a sympathetic sort of smile, tossing her head as she continued, "But just because we are all going to die _someday_ , doesn't mean we can't put it off as long as possible, right?," she queried, "I mean, Takeru always said that, too." She stood up to face Daisuke eye to eye, using her inch and a half of height over him to her full advantage, "After all, if we are going to dredge up the past, lets make it an honest past," she squeezed the pink puff of a toy tightly, "As I recall, Takeru was always somewhat of a fucking blowhard."

So deep in thought was he that Daisuke totally failed to notice the way Miyako's grip had changed on the stuffed bird until after she had swung it around and whacked him upside his head. "Oww," he complained, frowning at the toy, still hanging dangerously by one wing in Miyako's tight fist, "That hurt!"

Miyako took a step back before hitting him with the toy again, this time across his shoulder, "For the trouble I had to go through doing _your_ job," she grinned, tossing back an answer to his unasked question as she moved back to where she could lean against the door's uneven frame, ignoring both Daisuke's disproportionate wince and the way he was rubbing his recently abused head.

"Ken even made me take that awful Minamoto," she complained with a put-upon frown, her lip curling unpleasantly at the memory, "You know I can't stand that guy."

Daisuke just rolled his eyes, but at least he offered a small smile, somewhat reminiscent of the smile he had once sported. That is, before their world has started crumbling to hell. "Whatever," he offered up good-naturedly, "So be honest now, are you just here to tell me what a royal fuck-up I am or was there actually supposed to be some _purpose_ to your visit?"

"Both," Miyako announced casually, suddenly remembering why it was that she had walked all the way over to the north side of the compound, "I thought you should be made acutely aware of all the troubles you cause me _and_ ," she emphasized the word with great pleasure, "Ken wanted me to tell you that there would be a special gathering this evening."

Daisuke was in the process of rolling his eyes, but that last part, at least, seemed to pique his interest, "Hm? Ken asked you to come and tell me?" he queried, "Why didn't he just use the D-terminal like he usually does?" Ken had always made a point of using technology to its fullest, of not relying on the oh-so-unreliable human when something he trusted so much more could be used to do his bidding.

Miyako just shrugged, more concerned with lovingly petting her newest toy for its job well done and far too familiar with Ken's idiosyncrasies to be particularly concerned by them. "Ken is Ken," she answered mildly, "Sometimes it's best not to consider his motives too closely." She brushed her hair over her shoulder in an offhand manner, "He was probably just too busy and I was there anyway."

Daisuke frowned. Ken _was_ Ken. Of that, he was all too well aware. And there was something about Ken's sudden change in procedure that did not sit well with Daisuke. Something that felt not quite right, confused, as it were.

Daisuke's unexpectedly morose silence had Miyako studying him closely. "Daisuke?" she questioned carefully.

"Huh?" Daisuke jumped, Miyako's voice jarring him from his deep thoughts, "Oh!" he seemed to suddenly realize that she was still in the room, "It's nothing," he smiled, a completely dishonest smile, but one Miyako found to be believable, nonetheless. Daisuke flashed a peace sign in her direction, letting out a self-satisfied sounding, "Ha-ha!"

Sure, it was not quite the old Daisuke, but it seemed close enough that Miyako was willing to let sleeping dogs lie. "Whatever," she muttered nonchalantly, taking no small joy in the fact that for once it was her getting to blow _him_ off. Miyako shook her head as she used her shoulder to push away from the doorjamb, "See ya later, freak," she promised, nodding one last time in Daisuke's direction. And then she was gone, leaving Daisuke alone in the room to finish his work, offering no more of a goodbye than a slightly saddened smile to the small stuffed toy gripped tightly to her chest.

"Ken is Ken," Daisuke repeated softly, standing in the doorway to watch her go, glancing over his right shoulder with a nervous twitch before saying yet again, "Ken is Ken. Sometimes it is best not to consider his motives too closely."

But no matter how hard he focused on his ill-considered prayer, his thoughts could not drown out the quite voice that seemed to echo faintly throughout the dusty room.

**_And sometimes it is deadly not to._ **

* * *

 


	3. Did You Fall for a Shooting Star?

 

 

For many years the _Tokeisou-gumi_ had been known as yakuza in little more than name only. Handed down from father to son though six generations, the group had almost too easily weathered world wars and tough economic times, never seeming to grow, to change or to branch out, yet somehow failing to fall into obsolescence as well.

Tragedy seemed only to have struck the group twice, first with the untimely death of their fifth leader, Ichijouji Masaru, and then, with the death of his eldest son, Ichijouji Osamu. Both deaths were later ruled accidental, the former occurring during a family vacation with his two sons and the latter, tragically, as the _oyabun_ of less than a year was trying to protect none other than the current head of the family, his younger brother Ichijouji Ken.

The rule of Ichijouji Ken, while clouded with sadness, had nevertheless brought the family to as of yet unseen glory. With an almost military like disposition, the youngest Ichijouji to have ever taken power schooled what had been the recently lackadaisical group into cold perfection. Aided by an equally young group of preternaturally skilled allies, Ichijouji Ken began to grow the _Tokeisou-gumi_ into an organization not only recognized by the die-hard scholars of yakuza history but by law enforcement and other yakuza as well. It was with a sense of pride in a job well done, as well as concern for the newest competition, that fellow yakuza groups watched the formerly sleeping family erupt on to the scene with an almost supernaturally aided speed.

What such groups failed to see; failed, in Ken's mind, to ever really understand was that the growth of the _Tokeisou-gumi_ was more than some momentary burst, soon the peter out into little more than a semi-translucent cloud of what-could-have-beens left to drift across the darkening night sky. No, rather, Ken was building on five previous generations of foundation, carefully, almost too carefully, laid out in what he had determined to be an all but eerie prediction of his coming. There was a heretofore untapped genius woven into each and every stratum of the still smallish organization, quietly waiting for the time when someone with the true ability to lead would find himself at the helm.

It was only those in who Ken was convinced he saw this inherent talent, in those whom he believed were capable of understanding, to the fullest extent that their less than perfect little minds could fathom anyway, just what it was that he intended to accomplish, that Ken allowed into his inner circle. Thus this group was necessarily small; it's only weakness: that in so short a chain, one bad link could easily spell destruction for them all. And so it was with relentless drive that Ken continued to nip, trim, graft and, most importantly, cull.

To excel in the _Tokeisou-gumi_ was a mark of distinction.

To falter was to die.

It was with this inner circle that Ken now sat, amused, as he was, by their quite reticence. His eyes rounded the carefully silent room. There was the head of his west-Tokyo operations, Akiyama Ryo, as well as the two women who collectively oversaw his Shinjuku shops, Tachikawa Mimi and Takenouchi Sora. Sitting ram-rod strait against the far wall was his best enforcer and perhaps youngest member to date of the inner circle, Hida Iori. The most recent addition, a young man with long dark hair he kept pulled into a tight ponytail, sat a little away from the other members, his concentration focused on some point just beyond the center of the room, his mind clearly mulling a topic he believed to be of some importance. Ken allowed himself a small moment of pleasure at having had the sense to pull the boy, Minamoto Koji, from the streets. He had been fast proving himself to be one of the most intelligent and through members of the recently re-aligned group.

Ken's eyes broke from Minamoto, his face settling into a scowl as his thoughts were unexpectedly disrupted by the sound of the room's door sliding open. Framed in by the now empty space where the door had been, stood Inoue Miyako, who announced her presence with a small cough and a carefully toned assertion. Ken traced her line of sight to the still empty cushion next to his chair with an even more pronounced frown and an almost inaudible sigh. Almost. It seemed that for a second, all eyes in the room suddenly focused on that single spot, and then, just as quickly, turned away.

Whatever tension may have been growing however was soon broken as the empty space Miyako had just vacated was almost immediately occupied. Motomiya Daisuke gave a barely perceptible bow with his quiet announcement of presence before carefully securing the heavy door and hurrying over to his usual place beside Ken. He lowered himself carefully into _seiza_ before looking up at Ken and repeating, again, his subdued statement.

A quick smile touched Ken's lips before his face was once more schooled into a stern mask. He cleared his throat quickly before standing from his chair.

After looking about the room, studying each face in turn and daring, as it were anyone to look away, he suddenly turned his back to the group, his eyes resting entirely on Daisuke.

"We have been offered a unique opportunity…" he announced, he voice clear enough to be heard by Hida at the far end of the room, but not so loud as to carry any further. "Yes," he continued turning around to once more address the larger group, "A very… _interesting_ opportunity." He paused, amused at the way their eyes seemed to follow him.

"It would seem that we have caught the eye of the National Public Safety Commission," he announced casually, offering a cool smile to Tachikawa, the only one to react to his announcement in any noticeable way, "Or rather, I should say, one of the NPSC's would-be officers." Ken paused a moment to allow the information he had just given them time to sink in before motioning for Minamoto to open the small closet beside where he sat. A hushed murmur ran throughout the room as the group noticed the bound and gagged blond lying on his side in the tight space.

Once again Ken turned to study Daisuke, pausing only as long as he dared before striding back to his seat and instructing Minamoto to bring the man forward. Minamoto did exactly as requested, sparing Yamato no kindness as he dragged him forward towards the middle of the room, and deposited him in an awkward pile. Daisuke watched as the man struggled to find his knees, Minamoto sitting next to him calmly, awaiting Ken's next request. It was not long in coming.

Yamato had barely settled into what might, had one not looked too closely, been considered a comfortable position when with a wave of his hand, Ken instructed Minamoto to remove the gag. The dark haired boy made deft work of the knotted fabric, making sure however, to wrench Yamato's head in what seemed to Daisuke to be a very painful manner. His mouth now free to draw in the gasping breaths his body had been demanding, Yamato was finally able to gather enough of his wits about himself to look about the room. This was not what he had been expecting to see. For starters, he had heard that the newest head of the _Tokeisou-gumi_ was the youngest ever, but the man sitting on the raised dais at the head of the room could not possibly be more than a year or so older than his brother, Takeru. And sitting at that man's right hand was none other than the curly headed boy he had first seen at the bar. Of the other members gathered about the room, one or two may have been his age, but the rest were years younger. Yamato's face gathered into a small amused smile. If this gang was supposed to be the rising star of the yakuza then he didn't know why the governmental lackeys had their panties in such a twist.

Ken watched as Yamato began to take in his surroundings, the man's confidence visibly growing as he cast his eyes about the room, pausing every few seconds to mentally note each member of the _Tokeisou-gumi's_ inner circle. Ken's amusement was quickly tampered, however, by Daisuke's presumably unwitting fidgeting at his side. The restless movement only increased as Yamato's eyes moved to capture Daisuke, the younger man's eyes riveted to the blond, nervous, or so it would seem, at what so quick a study might reveal. Without thinking, Ken reached down to lay a hand on the agitated head, only to recoil sharply as his fingers met damply dusty curls. That movement at least seemed to pull Daisuke's attention away from the center of the room and back to Ken's less than happy face.

Daisuke flinched at the slight tremor of disgust that seemed to run the length of the thin man's body. "Sorry," Daisuke spoke softly before realizing that some things are best left unsaid, "I was cleaning the room and I lost track of the…" he trailed off as Ken pointedly looked away. After only a second however, Ken's eyes spun back around to the center of the room, and this time it was Daisuke could not help looking away as he realized that Ken was purposefully keeping his body angled away.

"Well now," Ken's voice burst forth suddenly, "that wasn't a very nice welcome, was it?" At Ken's words, Minamoto immediately moved back to his previous location. "I hope you will be forgiving," Ken continued in a voice that left no question as to whether or not he really cared, "But we did have our reasons." With this, Ken gave an all-too-conspicuous glance in Daisuke's direction along with a small smile. "It would seem that not everyone is quite ready to trust you."

Yamato cleared his throat roughly, but otherwise remained silent.

"I must say though," something about Ken's even tone nearly caused Daisuke to jump, "I was surprised when you contacted me Ishida. It's not often that a man of your," there was a short pause as Ken considered his wording, " _stature_ considers putting his skills to work for a man of," Ken smiled all too pleasantly, an amused sort of breath softly escaping, "well," he shrugged, "mine." Daisuke frowned, unsure of what, exactly, Ken was getting at, but knowing better than to open his mouth. Not that that really mattered, as barely a second later, Ken spoke again.

"Would you mind terribly telling me why?" Ken requested, the sharp words dripping from the edge of his tongue with cold curiosity.

Yamato stilled momentarily, considering his words carefully before sitting up a little straighter and meeting Ken's eyes, "As I told your man," he began calmly, formally, "I have come to disagree with some of the current policies and procedures employed by the NPSC, and I no longer believe them to be…" he paused, much as Ken had done a moment earlier, " _worthy_ of a man of any stature." Yamato's eyes seemed to gleam with an uncanny egotism, " _Especially_ my own." As he finished his seemingly cavalier statement, his eyes dropped to study Daisuke who, despite his earlier glares, suddenly seemed to be refusing to look his way.

Ken allowed himself a mirthless chuckle at the man's arrogant tone, "And what, pray tell, have we done to convince you of our merit?" Ken smiled as he caught Hida leaning forward to better hear the man's answer.

A quick toss of his head removed a lock of hair from in front of Yamato's eyes. He glanced about the room before settling his eyes on Ken with another piercing stare before answering shortly, "Nothing," he softened the hard statement with a sardonic smile, "as of yet."

Perhaps he had been distracted when he saw what he believed to be the first true smile since their rather abrupt introduction grace the lips of the man sitting on the dais, but Yamato failed to comprehend the actual meaning behind Ichijouji's nod towards the back of the room until seconds later when Minamoto was once more at his side, his hand fisted in Yamato's hair. It was probably because his balance was thrown off with his hands still tied behind his back, but Yamato could not help but wonder at the undue ease with which the young man jerked his head and shoulders back, exposing his throat and sending shooting pains from his ankles up through his knees.

"Stop." The voice was closer than Yamato was expecting and he strained his eyes downward to catch a glimpse of Ichijouji, standing now, having silently risen and moved toward the center of the room. At Ken's short command there came the sliding click of a knife closing, no doubt as audibly as possible for Yamato's sole benefit. And then Ken was standing beside him, hands casually tucked in his pockets, body turned slightly away as he studied something on the far wall. After a long moment, Ken turned to look down on Yamato, now forcibly biting his bottom lip so as not to cry out against the pain in his legs, made worse by the seemingly random jerks and pulls of Minamoto's hand.

"You'll find," Ken smiled, "that I'm not as forgiving as the NPSC." Ken turned and walked back towards his chair, receding quickly from Yamato's line of sight. "I _do_ , however, recognize that we all make mistakes," he sat down, smiling at Daisuke who was watching the scene closely, eyes guarded, "But—and make no mistake here—I will _not_ forgive the same offence _twice_." Ken allowed his statement a moment to sink in before nodding in Minamoto's direction, "Let him go."

Minamoto was quick to comply, shoving Yamato so far forward that he landed on his chin. Yamato, however, was smart enough not to protest the rough treatment, doing his best to inch himself back into a kneeling position and paying no heed to the scrape on his chin that he was sure was already starting to ooze blood.

The room waited silently for him to regain his seating and his breathing to calm.

"Well then," Ken continued jovially once things were again as they had been just minutes before, "Any other questions?" He smiled in Yamato's direction, "Well?"

Any other questions, indeed, Yamato frowned, fighting the urge to grimace as he inadvertently irritated the throbbing scrape on his chin. "Huh," he began softly, "Sur—" but then he caught sight of Daisuke. The younger man was sitting ramrod straight, his hands fisted tight on his knees. Daisuke's eyes flashed briefly and in them Yamato could almost hear a pained whisper, begging his silence. Yamato broke off what he had been intending to say with a short shake of his head, his eyes dropping to the tatami matted floor with a frustrated growl.

Ken watched the entire exchange with a look of quietly contemplative curiosity, his head cocked to the side as he continued to study the curly headed boy whose eyes were focused once again on the _tatami_ before him. "How very interesting…" Ken mused. Daisuke glanced up at the softly whispered statement, fighting the nearly compulsive need to swallow when he saw the way Ken was studying him.

Ken, too, seemed to be fighting some urge, first pursing his lips as if he were about to say something, only to pause with a short release of breath, leaving a vague sense of unfinished business hanging in the air. The other occupants in the room appeared content to allow Ken to wrestle within himself for as long as necessary, but as the seconds stretched into screamingly silent minutes, Yamato began to feel anxious.

It came as a relief then when Ken finally spoke, "You do remind me of someone," he admitted, turning once more towards Yamato. "Do you see it, too, Daisuke- _kun_?" The red headed boy did not offer so much as a murmur at being drawn so suddenly into the conversation. "Not so much in looks," Ken continued blithely without waiting for an answer, "But still…there _is_ something there." Ken frowned when he saw Takenouchi look away, pained.

Yamato studied Ichijouji carefully, unsure what the thin man was thinking. He failed to notice the look of annoyance on the curly headed boy's face until after Ichijouji made a special point of leaning down to speak directly to him. "I asked if you can see it too, Daisuke- _kun_." Ken inquired again, this time adding a much more insistent edge to his tone.

As if in answer, Daisuke turned his eyes toward Ken, allowing the man as much time as he wished to read what was written there. "He's angry," Ken concluded softly after a long moment, "Why is that?" Ken turned to face Yamato again, "I think you must also remind him of our old friend." Ken spun again to speak with Daisuke, "What was his name again?"

"You know his name." The statement was pinched, spoken in a way that would not allow it to carry beyond Ken's ears. Still it was impossible to miss the way Ken's lip seemed to curl, his fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. The moment seemed to pass as quickly as it came, however and Ken was quick to turn his attention back to Yamato, false smile firmly in place.

"Hmm, Takaishi, I want to say," Ken mused, fighting the urge to laugh at the way Yamato blanched, "Takaishi Takeru, no?" Ken smiled down at Daisuke when he heard the other man clear his throat. "Yes," he answered his own question with a derisive huff, "I suppose only a great fool would have missed it." With that Ken stood slowly, languidly, surveying the full breadth of the room once more before motioning for Daisuke to stand and follow him. He walked over to where Yamato sat, using a handkerchief to shield his hand as he lifted the blond man's chin, though the small scrape had long since begun to clot and dry.

"You will find," Ken assured his captive audience, his voice a low growl, "that I am no fool." He released Yamato's chin, and with it, the handkerchief which fell to the floor with a quiet flutter, "Don't pretend that just because you have not told me why you are here, that I do not know. Understand, Ishida- _kun_?" Ken waited only long enough for Yamato gave a short nod of his head. "Good," Ken praised him, his wan smile hard and cold.

"We're done here," Ken announced suddenly, stepping towards the door. "Minamoto," he paused only long enough to acknowledge the sharp yes that followed, "See to it that he makes it to the west wing," Ken ordered, flicking his eyes in Yamato's direction. Again the command was met with an incisive, "Yes."

Ken smiled. Minamoto really was one of his best decisions to date. The boy was proving to be quite the quick learner. Ken paused at the door to take one last look around the room, allowing himself to bask momentarily in the pleasure of being watched so closely by so many sets of eyes. Some days, it seemed as if the world was little more than a ripe apple, just waiting to fall in his lap. With that thought still ringing pleasantly in his head, he stepped over the doorway and began to make his way down the hall.

Daisuke followed quickly, pausing only long enough at the entryway to turn and toss what he hoped was a vaguely authoritarian, if perhaps too lackadaisical, waive of his hand, indicating the meeting's abrupt termination before hurrying after Ken's already receding steps.

Daisuke trailed Ken wordlessly all the way to the opposite end of the compound, only stepping in front of him long enough to slide back the door to Ken's room and then allowing the taller man to pass before he, too, stepped inside and slid the door shut. Daisuke watched, strangely uneasy as Ken walked to the far end of the room, unbuttoning his jacket as he went and laying it neatly across the western style bed, all with out so much as a sound.

Ken stood, his eyes focusing on the Chinese scroll that hung in the alcove against the far wall for several long moments before finally turning back and approaching Daisuke slowly, only to stop a half-step or so away and study him, much as he just had the ancient scroll. Daisuke met the unwavering stare as well as he could given Ken's close proximity and his added height.

After seconds more scrutiny, Ken reached back and brought his palm down sharply against the side of Daisuke's face, hard enough to knock Daisuke rearward, against the wooden wall, but not with enough force to actually cause him to fall. Daisuke straightened as quickly as he could, fighting the urge to raise his hand to soothe his throbbing cheek. He knew that such vulnerability would only serve to further anger the _Oyabun_.

Ken's lip curled in a half growl, "You disappoint me." He walked over to a small bar that contained a silver sink. Daisuke watched as Ken quickly washed his hands once, and then once again, being careful the entire time not to splash any extra water on his long shirtsleeves.

Only after washing and rinsing his hands for a third time did Ken reached for a towel hanging on the nearby rack. He patted his hands carefully, seemingly so focused on the motions of the towel that Daisuke was spooked when he finally spoke up, " _You_ will watch Ishida," Ken commanded harshly, never taking his eyes off the towel in his hands, "and _you_ will tell me everything."

Ken folded the towel neatly, taking extra time to carefully smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles and square off the four corners before setting it aside and pinning Daisuke with ice-cold eyes, "Do you understand?" He carefully enunciated each and every syllable, staring at Daisuke again, this time not like some interesting piece of artwork, but rather like Daisuke was no more than a piece of worthless rubbish. Ken's voice left no room for argument with the brusque request, leaving Daisuke alone to fight the involuntary pain he always felt when he saw such cold disdain fill Ken's eyes.

Daisuke forced himself to nod, answering, "Yes," surprised at how thick his voice sounded. He did not fail to notice the way Ken's lip twitched, repulsed, even as he adjusted and readjusted his shirtsleeves, almost neurotic in his quest to get them perfectly aligned. Finally he was able to set them to his preference, unable to hide his almost relieved smile as he crossed the room to where Daisuke still stood.

"Good," Ken's long white fingers reached out to toy absently with the goggles hanging loose around Daisuke's neck momentarily before suddenly becoming aware of his actions and jerking his hand away with a frown, "Because I am sick to death of everyone trying to _fuck_ with me all the time," Ken ended with a aggravated snarl, giving Daisuke a one final once over with his eyes before demanding coldly, "Get out."

Ken reached out beside Daisuke to press the small button on the intercom on the wall even as Daisuke slid the door open and turned away in preparation to leave.

"Wait." Ken's voice stopped Daisuke where he stood, "I will not tell you again, Daisuke- _kun_ ," Ken reached up to run a finger along the strap across Daisuke's neck, "Destroy those nasty things."

Daisuke nodded but otherwise did not respond, his eyes never leaving the floor even as he stepped from the room, reaching to pull the door shut blindly, habit rendering the action easy and thoughtless.

"Daisuke." This time the request was softer, perhaps even uncertain. The curly headed boy turned, hand still held in the notch of the door, his eyes meeting Ken's in silent acknowledgement of his having spoken, "You'll come back tonight."

It was certainly more statement than request, but still, Daisuke offered the dark headed man a small smile, knowing that the pained edge to Ken's tone was something very few had ever been allowed to hear. Daisuke only nodded acceptance of Ken's half-request, not confident enough in his own voice to risk a verbal answer. If asked, Daisuke would no doubt hesitate to admit it, but to himself he could concede that it was the _something_ in the dark purple-blue of Ken's eyes at times like these that made the decisions in Daisuke's life so much more difficult. If only…

Daisuke shook his head, unwilling to let his mind wander down that dangerous path for fear of what he would come to realize.

Thankfully, as quickly as the moment had come, it passed, and Ken turned his back on Daisuke, completely ignoring the younger man as he strode across the room to where a computer sat, some half-finished work still awaiting completion pulled up on the desktop. Daisuke sighed softly at the hard line of Ken's shoulder, turning away just in time to notice the older, slightly gray woman who served Ken hurrying towards the room with tray stacked with Ken's favorite tea service. Daisuke stepped to the side, bowing slightly as she passed in a show of respect that Ken insisted upon, before shutting the door behind her with a soft click and leaving to complete his cleaning.

* * *

 


	4. Even if You Cannot Hear My Voice

 

 

 **_Daisuke ran towards the far end of the compound, each breath breaking harshly, but not because of his pace. His mind raced. What had Miyako meant when she had said it was Takeru? Not_ ** _that_ **_, Daisuke was quick to assure himself. Takeru had promised; a solemn promise. And a promise meant something, right? It had to. It was the only way the world would, could continue to make sense._ **

**_Still, Daisuke could feel the fear churning in his stomach, driving his legs to push harder. Try as he might, Daisuke could see Takeru's promises for what they were. Silly idealism in a world chock full of cold reality. Reality that all-too-often felt the need to exert its dominance over the world's would-be optimistics._ **

**_Daisuke rounded the final corner only to let out a yelp as he nearly collided with Takenouchi. The older girl immediately wrapped strong arms around him, stilling any further forward motion even as she pulled Daisuke close against herself._ **

**_"Stop it, Daisuke," she insisted, whispering close to his ear even as she held him tight, "It's okay. Just stop." Only slowly did he come to realize that he was fighting, clawing really, against her hold. "Stop it," she repeated, smiling down on Daisuke as she felt his body relax, the wild, almost animalistic hostility of just moments before calming and then ceasing, "Everything's okay."_ **

**_"Jesus!" Miyako came up from behind them both, hands dropping to bent knees even as she struggled to catch her breath, "The kid can run," she informed Takenouchi between gasping breaths. Takenouchi frowned at the long haired girl before turning her attention back to Daisuke._ **

**_"Okay?" she asked, a soothing, almost motherly hand rubbing gentle circles over Daisuke's back. Daisuke did not answer, could not answer, focused as he was on remaining upright on suddenly wobbly legs, unsure though he was as to if their new onset instability was due to his recent exertion or his even more recent relief. Only when he was certain that he could stand on his own did Daisuke untangle himself from Takenouchi's comforting embrace, stepping back and shooting Miyako an ugly look in the process. It was a good thing he was not expecting any apologies because all he got for his anger was mystified shrug._ **

**_Rolling his eyes in return, he turned back to the more reliable Takenouchi, offering only a single name as his question, "Takeru?"_ **

**_"There's nothing to worry about," she was quick to assure him, "Not really anyway." Takenouchi smiled in the hopes that it would cover her small retraction. "He and Ken were…" Takenouchi trailed off as she considered her words carefully, "He and Ken were, are just being he and Ken. But everything's fine. Mimi already went to find Ichijouji-_ sama _. And, regardless, I think things have finally settled down." Both Takenouchi and Miyako glanced towards the door behind them momentarily before sharing a shrug, "Things have gotten pretty quiet."_**

**_Now, if only quiet meant good. If only Daisuke could bring himself to believe that quiet meant good. But Daisuke's experience seemed to suggest that quiet rarely, if ever, meant good. Quiet only served to cover things up. In all honesty, Daisuke despised quiet with every fiber of his being._ **

**_"But Takeru's okay," Daisuke felt the need to confirm._ **

**_"Well, yeah," this time Miyako answered, "Why wouldn't he be?" All she got for an answer was another dirty look. "What?" Miyako demanded, "I never said he wasn't!"_ **

**_Daisuke rolled his eyes yet again, "Whatever," he shook his head as if he figured that it was useless to even try and explain anything to the long haired girl. He ignored the muttered, "Whatever," that was her response._ **

**_"I'm going in there." Surely if he said it with enough authority, even Takenouchi would not question him._ **

**_"Uh-uh. Nope." Takenouchi grabbed his arm and jerked him back in her direction, "This has nothing to do with you," she ignored the withering look Daisuke shot in her direction, "You know what I mean," she complained._ **

**_"Someone has to go in there," Daisuke rationalized, still tugging ineffectively at her grip._ **

**_"Not you," came the simple answer. Takenouchi was not even looking at him. Instead her eyes were watching the figure making its way down the hall. Even from a distance, the person was easily identifiable from the eerie way the setting sun glinted off the large frames he wore._ **

**_Ichijouji Osamu, the sixth_ oyabun _of the_ Tokeisou _-_ gumi _strode by the three subordinates in the hall without so much as a glance, disappearing into the room in question with no sound other than the slamming of its door._**

_-8-8-8-_

Yamato glanced about the room as well as he could, it's angles appearing askew from where he laid against the rough tatami mats.

"God-damn it," he sighed. Twelve years of school, three years at university and that really was all he could muster for a first thought.

"God-damn _it_." Or a second, for that matter. Yamato struggled up to his knees for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. The least the little bastard could have done was untie me, he thought dryly, tugging at the rope still firmly secured around his wrists. Yamato scooted across the room on his knees, garnering himself more of a mat burn than anything else, but eventually succeeding in making it the few meters to the closest wall, where, with the wall acting as support, he was able to finally push himself to his feet. It was only then, however, standing braced-legged as he was, but by his own effort for the first time in much too long a time, that he realized that his long dead feet were coming back alive via an excruciating case of pins and needles.

" _God-damn it!_ " Despite what his stepmother would say, continuing to repeat it really _did_ make him feel better. Yamato stood perfectly still for as long as he dared, hoping to overcome the painful sensation before his knees gave out from the effort of maintaining the awkward position and he ended back up in a pile on the floor.

After what seemed like an eternity, the feeling slowly began to fade to a slightly more bearable level. Yamato carefully shifted his weight, first to one foot then to the other. It was not pleasant, no, but it was workable. He straightened his body to stand a little taller, tossing loose hair away from his eyes with an impatient shake of his head. The room that the boy, Minamoto, had all but tossed him into appeared nice enough—cleaner than most anywhere else Yamato had stayed recently and with a pleasant view of the currently dormant garden. Yamato paced the perimeter of the small room once before turning his mind back to the problem at hand, namely, the problem of his hands, for in addition to being small and clean, the room was also _absolutely_ empty. There was no hope of finding something in the room that could be used to cut through his ropes. Of course, Yamato thought dryly, he could always wander out and about in search of someone to help. After all, no one had said anything about Yamato having to _stay_ in the room and he had not heard the door lock when Minamoto had left. Still, Yamato did not quite feel up to the challenge of making new friends, _just yet_.

With a frustrated sigh, Yamato allowed himself to drop onto the cushions lining the seat-high alcove in front of the window. So far, it was safe to say that this was _not_ going to plan. Yamato let out an inelegant huff at the all too obvious mental understatement.

But then, a sudden genius struck. Yamato reached back blindly to gently trace the jutting corner of the alcove with the fingers of his still tied hands. No, no, he hastened to assure the half of his brain already jumping to naysay the would-be brilliant plan, this might just work. Yamato carefully levered himself back into a standing position, forcing his arms apart as best he could in hopes of keeping the binding rope taut while placing his wrists on either side of the theoretically sharp corner. Then, bending his knees a bit he muttered the word, "One," before straightening suddenly with an even more vocal, "Two!"

"One!" Yamato quickly repeated the process, "Two! One! Two! One! Two!" He could almost swear that the felt heat gathering in the soon to be destroyed bindings as the friction created between them and the wall wore the twiney rope away at what he was sure was its molecular level, "One! Two! One! Two!" Down, up, down, up, faster and faster Yamato moved, expecting the ties to suddenly burst apart at any moment, certain, "One—" Yamato suddenly caught sight of the red-headed boy that he had first seen under the street lamp the previous evening, Daisuke's body casually leaning against the now open door, only, instead of eyeing Yamato ugly as he had been before, the boy was clearly fighting the urge to collapse in gleeful laughter.

"Really now," Daisuke began carefully, unable to stop his grin from showing even as he steadfastly refused to break eye contact with Yamato who still stood frozen in mid-crouch, "I'm pretty sure that that only works in the movies." Daisuke could not help ending with a small chuckle.

Yamato rose slowly, cursing his pale complexion, more than certain that it was clearly airing his embarrassment at having been caught so unexpectedly.

"Come here," Daisuke motioned with a crook of his finger in Yamato's direction. Yamato tried not to show his surprise, but was unable to completely hide the hesitation in his step as the young boy casually pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open. "Turn around," Daisuke smiled at the way Yamato, despite his assumed indifference, was still unmistakably eyeing both him and the knife warily.

"Say what you will," Yamato began, glancing over his shoulder in a pointless attempt to keep his eyes on the boy even as he turned around, "But I think that it really was working."

"Mmm-hmm," Daisuke uttered noncommittally as he eased his knife under the unchanged ropes and with a quick sawing motion, freed Yamato's hands.

Before Yamato had even turned back around, Daisuke's knife was already out of sight. "Ow," Yamato complained as he brought his hands around, his shoulders objecting at his arm's newfound freedom.

"Let me see," Daisuke reached out, pulling Yamato's hands toward himself, Daisuke's eyes focusing solely on the harsh, red marks left by the rope before Yamato even had a chance to protest his mistake. After a moment's scrutiny, Daisuke let out a soft hum, running his thumb lightly over one of the marks. Yamato drew back at the unexpected touch, only to have Daisuke jerk Yamato's wrists closer to his own eyes with even more force, pulling the taller man off balance and causing him to stumble forward a half step.

"Geeze," Daisuke complained, studying the burn with a nearly palpable sense of annoyance, "I don't know what you did, but Minamoto really doesn't like you."

Yamato shrugged, more flustered by the too-close inspection than by any real soreness in his wrists, "It was the girl that tied me up," he admitted, almost immediately regretting the humiliating disclosure when he noticed Daisuke's look of surprise.

"Really? Miyako?" Daisuke asked, dropping one of Yamato's hands to lay cool fingers against the burn on the opposite wrist. Yamato only shrugged, refusing to make eye contact—something that made Daisuke want to needle him even further, "Pansy."

"What—" Yamato began brokenly, running his free hand through his hair in frustration, "It wasn't really like…" he paused, only then observing Daisuke's teasing smile, "…that," he finished half heartedly with a sigh, noticing for the first time the swollen mark on Daisuke's face.

It wasn't until he felt Daisuke impatiently knock his hand away that he realized he had reached up to run the fingers of his free hand over the sore looking mark. Daisuke took a step back dropping Yamato's arm in the process. He frowned at Yamato before calling over his shoulder in what seemed entirely too playful a tone of voice for the amount of anger in his eyes, "Hear that Miyako?" Daisuke left Yamato standing in the middle of the room, ignoring him even as he side-stepped him on his way over towards the window.

"Well, it's not as if I did it specifically to hurt _you_ ," Miyako groused, surprising Yamato by her sudden appearance in the doorway, white medical chest clutched against her body. Miyako walked into the room and dropped to the floor with a graceless whump before opening up the chest to better riffle through its contents. After a few seconds, she looked up to where Yamato still stood, something akin to utter horror plastered on his face, and motioned rather impatiently for him to join her. Yamato did is best to ignore Daisuke's mirthless chuckle as he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to obey the younger woman.

"Closer," Miyako insisted before Yamato had really even had the chance to sit. As soon as he was within arm's reach, she grasped his chin, with frown, "This one you can't blame on me," she complained, dousing a wad of cotton with more antiseptic than was no doubt necessary and pressing the dripping pad against Yamato's chin, ignoring his wince. "Hold it there," she insisted, pulling one of Yamato's own hands up from his lap to press the cotton against his chin before demanding, "Other hand."

"Is this really necessary?" Yamato asked, motioning to his chin with his free hand just before Miyako snagged it mid-movement with a frown.

"No one asked for your opinion," she informed him, laying his free hand on her lap before dousing another bit of cotton and starting to dab that around the rawer edges of the rope burns in what Yamato thought might be her attempt at gentleness. It was not working.

"Ow! That really—" Yamato began, but with just one raised eyebrow from Miyako, he thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut.

Daisuke shook his head at the little scene playing out on the floor in front of him. Three minutes worth of Miyako's first aid and the older man was already about to cry. Something about the situation actually made Daisuke genuinely want to laugh.

"Careful now," Daisuke could not help but tease mercilessly, "You wouldn't want her to hurt you," Daisuke smiled as Yamato's eyes swung in his direction, " _again_." Daisuke had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Yamato's frustrated growl.

"Daisuke!" Miyako reprimanded, bringing Yamato's head back around with a hand on either side of his face, "Enough!" she hissed over the blond man's shoulder. Daisuke offered a quick surrender, raising both hands in mock defeat even as he winked in Miyako's direction. That was enough to bring Miyako's attention to the papers gripped in his left hand.

"What's that?" Miyako fired directly, nodding in the directed of the papers in question. Daisuke's eyes darted to the pages in his hand, seemingly surprised at having found himself holding them. He laid the pages on his lap, smoothing them out gently before folding them and easing them into his front hip pocket with a shrug.

Well?" Miyako demanded.

Daisuke allowed his eyes to roll, "None of your business." His tone was light, but something about the way Daisuke refused to actually look her in the eyes bothered Miyako.

"Daisuke!" her exasperated tone seemed to suggest that this was a conversation they had had in the past, many times. Daisuke allowed his head to loll back on his shoulders momentarily before snapping it back up to glare at Miyako through the reflection in the glass.

"None of your business." he enunciated the repeated words carefully, heavily, suggesting he thought that she had not understood the first time.

"Fine." Clearly Miyako was not the least bit fazed by Daisuke's tone or his oft-mercurial moods, taking them instead as a challenge. She stood suddenly from where she had been sitting in front of Yamato, going so far as to actually take a threatening step in Daisuke's direction. But even she stopped when Daisuke turned from the window, pinning her with a cold dead glare.

"Drop it."

Yamato felt himself shudder at Daisuke's tone. Even Miyako, who only moments before had seemed so ready to do just about anything to satisfy her curiosity, even if it meant actually prying the papers in question from Daisuke's hands stopped where she stood, looking away as she let out a worn sigh.

"Fine," she finally seemed to agree, sitting back down. "Whatever." She gestured flippantly in Daisuke's direction before reaching again for Yamato's arm, ignoring the all too obvious questions in Yamato's eyes, but glancing every so often over his shoulder to where she could still make out Daisuke's blank expression eerily ghosting back at her through the window glass.

"Whatever." Daisuke repeated her own statement back at her a long minute later, his voice dry and uninterested, but something approaching life finally returning to his eyes. "Look, I'll take care of _this_ ," he motioned to where Yamato still sat, Miyako's attempt at first aid still not much beyond the disinfection stage, "Okay?"

Miyako muttered something that, to Yamato's ears anyway, sounded like it would be painful but otherwise, did not argue. She threw the cotton ball she had been squeezing in her fist in the bottom of the first aid kit with an annoyed grunt.

"Like you know anything about first aid," Miyako complained as Daisuke stood and walked over to where she was still sitting.

"I know plenty," Daisuke allowed his face to relax into a small smile that felt gentle, but, nevertheless, did not quite reach his eyes, "You don't get to be as klutzy as I am without picking up a thing here or there." Miyako gave a half-hearted huff but still shook her head at the self-depreciating remark.

"Fine," she eventually conceded, "Have it your way," she stood, looking down at the blond head in front of her and muttering, "stupid idiot," before patting Yamato on the head, much as one would a pet dog, "Don't let him pick on you too much," she warned, smiling at the soulful eyes turned up at her in surprise at the almost friendly gesture. Apparently Yamato was not convinced that it was safe to talk yet. Miyako chuckled shortly and gave Yamato another comforting pat before walking over to the door. Just at the door's edge, she turned, and trying one last time, called softly, "Daisuke?" but the boy was clearly not listening, his eyes focused once more on the papers he had pulled back out and started re-reading even as he stood behind Yamato. With an aggravated scowl, Miyako slid the door open, slipping through gracefully before slamming it shut with as much force as she could muster.

Yamato jumped, visibly spooked by the sudden concussive force that seemed to vibrate throughout the small room despite the fact that he had watched Miyako's movements closely from the moment that he had first heard her call Daisuke's name in such a pained tone. For his part, if Daisuke had noticed her calling him, or even that she had slammed the door shut, he certainly showed no outward signs. But after several long minutes, Yamato heard him sigh circling around to where Yamato still sat, facing the front of the room. There, Daisuke paused to study Yamato, his eyes focusing on Yamato's right hand still holding antiseptic soaked cotton to his chin where Miyako had left it, as small smile playing about Daisuke's lips.

Shaking his head, Daisuke gently reached out to bat the hand away from Yamato's face. "Really," he complained, "You blonds are all such fucking idiots." Yamato frowned. There was something about that phrase that rang painfully familiar. "She was the one that was bullying you, you know," Yamato was informed, "You really didn't have to play along." With that, Daisuke tossed the loose papers he had been holding onto Yamato's lap and sat down in front of him with a, "Humph."

Yamato glanced down at his knees. It did not take him long to realize that the papers Daisuke and Miyako had been arguing over just moments before where none other than the letter that Takeru had written to him. "Where did you get that?" Yamato growled, anger breaking through his better senses to color his words dark.

Daisuke smiled at the fighting tone, a real smile, "Your pocket," he answered honestly with a shrug. "I don't know who's dumber," he posited, "Takeru—for mailing it. Or you—for actually bringing it with you." Daisuke feigned a put upon sigh. "Like I said: you blonds—"

"Yeah, yeah," Yamato cut him off impatiently, "I know." Daisuke could not help his light chuckle, taking Yamato's well sanitized chin in hand carefully and quickly dabbing on some greasy ointment.

"You want a band-aid?" Daisuke questioned seconds later, holding up the thin plastic strip as he motioned toward Yamato's scrape.

"No thanks," Yamato frowned.

Daisuke shrugged at the grumpy tone, "Good call," he praised, "Wrist?" Yamato rested one arm in Daisuke's waiting hand, watching Daisuke work swiftly, ending the job neatly in mere minutes with a clean white bandage. Yamato barely had time to admire the handy work before he was assaulted with the impatient command, "Other one."

Yamato placed his arm on the proffered hand, "About that letter…" he began carefully.

"Listen," Daisuke stated plainly, cutting off the explanation Yamato had yet to even fully form in his mind, "I can tell you honestly that the only _smart_ thing to do would be to destroy that," he gave a pointed look to the letter still sitting in Yamato's lap, "But seeing as you are related to _him_ I doubt you're even capable of listening to reason." Daisuke frowned at the way Yamato's face all but immediately morphed into a mask that Daisuke knew far too well would mean that he would receive nothing but stubborn refusal.

"I can't destroy it," Yamato protested quickly with vehemence. Annoyed by Yamato's dismissive tone, Daisuke muttered something unintelligible under his breath, pulling the bandage he was wrapping a little tighter than was entirely necessary. Yamato flinched, but otherwise did not risk further angering the boy with a comment.

"Give it to me, then," Daisuke finally offered with a sigh after several long moments had passed. Daisuke pushed himself back from where he sat and began to replace the contents of the small medicine chest, doing his best not to openly watch Yamato as the blond man studied the letter in his lap, fingering it carefully as he considered the offer.

"Look," Daisuke explained, clearly exasperated at Yamato's hesitance, "What makes you think you're going to have any better luck holding on to that thing than you've already had?" he paused, waiting for an answer Yamato could not seem to find, "Truth is that there's nothing in there that I don't already know," Daisuke paused again, running a frustrated hand though his hair, "But that might not be the case with the next guy. Understand?" he finished carefully.

"But—" Yamato still did not seem convinced.

"God-damn it!" Daisuke's sudden outburst spooked Yamato. He clearly had not expected that, or the way that Daisuke's fist pounding the tatami would make it jump. "Why'd you even send that fucking thing?" Daisuke demanded, pausing shortly before brushing off some inaudible response with a flick of his wrist, "No. Because you're a fucking _idiot_ , that's why." Daisuke bounded suddenly to his feet, stalking off towards the far window, "Oh really?" he spoke again, only seconds later, "And what did you _think_ he was going to do with it?"

"Umm," Yamato began carefully, "Daisuke- _kun_?" It did not quite seem right to be calling the younger man by his given name, but Yamato did not know what other name to use, "wha—"

Yamato stopped mid phrase, startled by the wild look he saw as his eyes locked with Daisuke's, but even more startled by the way the sudden visual contact seemed to overwhelm the boy, his slighter body crumpling against the window frame, his breath coming only in pained gasps.

"Jesus!" Yamato rushed across the room at Daisuke's too-sudden collapse, pulling the boy up and onto the window seat, demanding, "What's all this about? Huh?" Daisuke continued to fight for his breath, drawing his knees up close to his chest and refusing to so much as glance at Yamato who was still using his weight to keep Daisuke pinned to the bench. "You want the letter?" Yamato questioned, desperate for a solution to Daisuke's sudden attack. He looked across the room to where the letter had fallen to the floor when he had jumped up from where they had been sitting. "Stay here," he insisted, pressing Daisuke's shoulders in a reaffirming squeeze, "Just stay here." Yamato dashed across the short distance, snatching up the letter and hurrying it back to Daisuke, shoving it expectantly just under Daisuke's nose.

Daisuke stared at the anxiously held out sheaf of papers with an entirely mirthless smile. He seemed to hesitate, his hand hovering a few inches away from the letter until just as Yamato was about to give up and pull it back, at which point Daisuke's hand suddenly snaked out to snag it, folding it carefully in quarters before shoving it deeply into his front pants' pocket. "Damn," he complained to the seemingly empty room behind Yamato, his soft voice raw and his breath still coming in short and raspy gasps, "Now even _he_ thinks I'm crazy."

Yamato ignored the all-too-obvious insinuation, opting instead to thread a hand through Daisuke's hair, pulling the still seated boy forward to lean against himself in what he hoped was a comforting, if awkward manner. Yamato sighed with relief a moment later when he felt the boy's arms move to wrap loosely around his middle, the stiffness in Daisuke's neck and shoulders relaxing as his head came to rest against Yamato's chest by its own accord.

"You know," Yamato admitted softly, taking care not to startle the boy as he tried to run his free hand through Daisuke's hair in what he hoped was a slow and soothing motion, "You probably won't believe this, but…" Yamato broke with instincts to hug the boy a little tighter, smiling when he wasn't pushed away. "Somehow, you kind of remind me of my brother." Yamato couldn't help the bitter chuckle and pained smile that forced themselves free, offering his penance instead with another quick squeeze. He felt the boy release a gusty sigh, his shoulders slumping even further forward as his head shook slowly back and forth.

"God," Daisuke muttered softly to himself.

**_Such a fucking blond._ **

Daisuke sighed again at the all-too-painfully obvious statement, "You're telling me?" Daisuke whispered, his tone fatigued, his eyes darting a quick glance askance to the right.

Apparently even _he_ did not have an answer for that. Sure. Whatever. Daisuke rolled his eyes, gently pushing the taller boy away with an annoyed shake of his head, offering only a slightly aggravated look as explanation to the wordlessly questioning Yamato, who insisted on hovering near him with a vague, sort of mother hen-ish persistence. Daisuke fought the urge to groan. And just how was this supposed to work, his heart begged, the stabbing pain worsening as he once again inadvertently caught sight of those bright blue eyes.

A ghostly sigh seemed to pass through the otherwise still room. **_God-damn fucking idiot_** , it complained, a soft hint of worry coloring the otherwise harsh sentiment.

* * *

 


	5. Metal Fingers Clutching Dirty Sheets

 

Ken removed his glasses carefully, setting them on the otherwise immaculate desk with a click before rubbing roughly at sore eyes. He knew working at his computer in an dark room invariably led to a migraine; still, he had found that he was often cloaked in darkness long before he even realized it was time for the day to be ending. Ken leaned back in his chair with a frustrated growl. Something, clearly, was not right with the data he was currently reviewing. He could feel it, almost see it even, yet just as he became sure that the problem was about to reveal itself, his understanding of it would pull back, drawn away not unlike the tide, and he’d be left standing on the edge of a dark ocean, unable to make sense of what moments before he would have claimed to have understood.  
  
This had always been Osamu’s forte, the natural genius of the boy never shining though as intensely as it did in matters of family business. But where Osamu’s brilliance came to the boy with innate ease, Ken had been educated, set and reset to tasks as many times as proved necessary for them be mastered. And while Ken understood that the brain could be taught to think on a higher level, faster, even, he held no illusions as to whether or not that level might ever become _natural_.  
  
No, Ken thought to himself, leaning forward once more to take hold of his glasses, no illusions. And certainly, no _hope_.  
  
Ken’s breath caught as a cold hand reached out suddenly to wrap over his face, covering his eyes. He inhaled, catching the whiff of freshly soaped skin even as a second hand reached down and took his glasses from his hand.  
  
“Ken.” The simple name was as remonstrative as it was forgiving. Ken felt his body pushing back, trying, as it were, to find the waiting embrace, only to have the arms wrapped around him stiffen, further pinning him in place.  
  
Daisuke ignored Ken’s all but inaudible whimper, certain even that Ken, himself, was not aware that he had made the noise, choosing instead to lean forward to whisper in Ken’s ear, “Where is it?” Ken fought to pull away when he heard the hard voiced request, but Daisuke only tightened his grip, refusing to give the older boy enough room to even shake his head, “Tell me,” he insisted, continuing to hold Ken tight.  
  
Finally Daisuke felt the taller boy concede, only then loosening his grip enough to allow Ken the means to make a small gesture with his head, “There,” came the cautious response as Ken nodded towards the bed, “In the drawer,” he clarified a second later. Daisuke smiled, bringing the hand that had been wrapped across Ken’s chest up to run affectionately though his hair.  
  
“Good,” Daisuke praised, “Good.” He reached out to turn off Ken’s computer monitor, startling even himself by how quickly the room became obscured by the murky shadows. “Stay here,” Daisuke insisted, waiting until he had Ken’s nod of acquiescence before dropping his hands and stepping away from the chair. Even in the practically empty room, it made Daisuke nervous, moving about in the heavy darkness, his eyes fighting desperately to focus on something, anything really, that might suggest that they were becoming acclimated to the lack of light.  
  
Soon though, he was able to make out the shape of small table that sat beside Ken’s bed. Daisuke, unable to stop the relieved sigh at having made it this far without yet walking into anything, pulled open the bottom drawer and began to rummage around. It was easy enough to find what he was looking for, and he stood up, his foot just on the verge of sliding the drawer back into place before deciding against it. Daisuke glanced down at the soft fabric in his hand, unable to stop small perturbed hum from escaping the back of his throat as he made his way back carefully to where Ken still sat, the dim outline of his face staring straight ahead as ordered now clearly visible as a pale ghosting in the otherwise dark room.  
  
“Ken?” he questioned softly as he came upon the boy only to realize that Ken’s body was braced tight, his hands digging into their armrests. “Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh,” Daisuke soothed, running a hand through Ken’s hair, continuing to whisper the soft words.  
  
“See?” Daisuke asked softly, laying a cheek against the top of Ken’s head, “It’s only me,” he promised, “Only me, okay?” Encouraged by Ken’s shaky nod, Daisuke brushed back the hair from Ken’s eyes, settling the opaque mask he had just retrieved in its place, tying it tightly before turning Ken’s chair so that Ken now faced him. Daisuke crouched, bringing his face even with Ken’s as he ran light fingers over the mask, assuring himself even in the darkened room that it lay correctly, with no harsh folds or twists that might hurt Ken.  
  
“See?” he asked again, smiling a bit at the irony of it when Ken nodded in agreement with his simple question. “Good,” Daisuke praised, standing suddenly, pulling one of Ken’s hands with him as he did.  
  
“Stand up.” All softness had left Daisuke’s voice and Ken did not hesitate to obey. No, any resistance on Ken’s part was always quick to disappear, the blinded boy showing little to no similarity to his other self. It was too quick to Daisuke’s mind, and as he stood there watching the boy quietly awaiting his next order he had to fight the urge shake him, to demand that Ken fight him, that he try to escape.  
  
But theirs was a script that had been written years before and there would be no going back to change the story now.  
  
Daisuke led Ken a few steps away from the computer desk before dropping his hand and turning to face him. Daisuke smiled as Ken’s head moved about, trying to sense Daisuke, but unable to see anything from under the dark cloth. Daisuke ran a hand down the side of Ken’s face, chuckling softly when Ken immediately turned in that direction.  
  
At the quiet noise, Ken stepped in Daisuke’s direction only to be halted by a sharp, “Stop.” Ken’s compliance was swift. Daisuke took a few steps back until he was resting against the edge of the bed before holding out a hand in Ken’s direction with a softly whispered, “Come.” Ken moved towards the sound of Daisuke’s voice without hesitation, astonishing Daisuke with the almost innate ease with which Ken was able to latch on to his hand. Daisuke used the grip to pull Ken the rest of the way forward, catching him lightly when he stumbled in the dark.  
  
Daisuke pulled Ken in close to his body, bracing the older boy’s hands against his thighs to offer him some balance as Daisuke reached up to run both hands along Ken’s face, smiling at the little noises Ken made with each ghostly touch. Daisuke allowed his hands to roam lower, seemingly of their own free will until they settled in unison on Ken’s hips.  
  
Daisuke squeezed tightly at the narrow hips, “Get undressed.” Daisuke could feel Ken’s uncertainty in the quick way he tried to draw back, but Daisuke wrenched Ken forward, his fingers pressing into Ken’s hips painfully enough to beget a small cry of pain.  
  
“Ken.” There was little question as to what the harshly spoken name was warning. Still, that was not to suggest that Daisuke did not understand Ken’s hesitance. Up until now, he had always been the one to undress the boy, taking careful note of any distress Ken seemed to be suffering and altering his approach as warranted. But tonight…  
  
Daisuke chose not to dwell on the source of his callousness, opting instead to encourage Ken’s shy hands with a throaty growl even as he reached over to turn on a small lamp sitting on the bedside table. Ken seemed to balk momentarily as light suddenly brightened his otherwise impenetrable darkness, but after a sharp slap across his hip from Daisuke, Ken’s hands rose from where they had been gripping Daisuke’s knees to the small buttons of his dress shirt, where they seemed to find no end of difficulties. After a few mistrials, however, Ken finally managed to undo the first and then the second, moving on quickly to the third to stave off Daisuke’s impatience. Daisuke took this his chance to encourage Ken’s good behavior by nosing past the shirt’s starch stiffened edges to nip at Ken’s collar bone.  
  
“No!” It was the first real word Ken had dared to speak, and yet still very, very much against the rules. Daisuke reached up snare the hands pressing back against his chest, jerking Ken off balance in the process and causing the taller boy to land heavily on his knees on the floor. He gathered both of Ken’s wrists tight in one fist, pulling back with his right hand as if he might slap the boy, only to find himself hesitating, unable to complete the action against the pale face tilted up from between his knees. In the end, Daisuke just dropped Ken’s wrists, reminding him tersely what it was that he was supposed to be doing.  
  
Ken resumed his task, hands shaky even after he had finished and Daisuke helped lift him back into a standing position. Daisuke pushed the still-crisp shirt off of Ken’s shoulders, drawing the boy into a close embrace, his hands circling comfortingly around Ken’s back even as he ignored the small sound of distress that Ken made as shirt fell to the ground in a wrinkled heap. After a few seconds embrace, Daisuke again positioned Ken an arm’s length way, pausing only to place Ken’s arms on his own shoulders before reaching to unbuckle the slim belt clasp at Ken’s waist. Ken seemed to relax somewhat at this return to the more traditional, even making small noises of pleasure as Daisuke’s cool fingers dipped under the band along his waistline.  
  
“You’ve gotten thinner.” It was more an accusation than a statement, and Ken cringed, pulling back to shake his head in denial. Not that Daisuke was buying that for a second. His hand slid down the back of Ken’s still fastened pants, nails scraping along bare skin before squeezing. “You have,” Daisuke insisted, smiling to himself at the way the simple gesture caused Ken to fall forward, the top of his head coming to rest just under Daisuke’s chin.  
  
“Here,” Daisuke insisted, pulling his hand from Ken’s pants and reaching up to bring both of Ken’s hands down to the top button. Daisuke made certain that both Ken’s hands had a grasp on the metal clasp before releasing them and moving on to target Ken’s nipples with an all too impatient tongue.  
  
Ken jumped at the sudden attack. Clearly the older boy had not been expecting Daisuke to move forward so aggressively. Not that Daisuke was concerned. He knew all too well that what benefits Ken received from their meetings were based almost entirely on just how well Daisuke could keep him off balance. Allow Ken any chance to lead and their little game would be over before it started.  
  
And Daisuke had no intentions of allowing Ken to escape so easily.  
  
His tongue darted out again, circling first around Ken’s left nipple and then the right, pausing only long enough for Daisuke’s teeth to scrap along the tiny nub, a not so gentle slap to Ken’s ass reminding him that despite his other distractions, he was still expected to finish the task Daisuke had left him, quite literally, at hand.  
  
Daisuke pulled Ken in closer, sucking at tender flesh until he was sure it had become quite sore, then moving on to his other target, hands kneading the tight flesh of Ken’s buttocks the entire time. Finally Ken’s effort seemed to come to fruition, fabric falling roughly past Daisuke’s hands as an impatient tug by Ken left himself standing only in boxers and socks, the previously challenging pants pooled around his ankles.  
  
Daisuke smiled at Ken’s sudden success, praising gently with a whispered, “That’s good,” as his hands reached down to cup the warmly throbbing flesh, squeezing it softly through Ken’s thin boxers. Ken cried out, unable to stop his body from pressing against Daisuke’s light embrace.  
  
Stepping to the side so that Ken could reach out and touch the bed that Daisuke had, until just recently, been leaning against, Daisuke was able to easily maneuver the dark haired boy up and into a sitting position just on its edge. Daisuke tugged at Ken’s boxers, unable to contain his amused chuckle at the gasping noise Ken produced as the elastic band snapped past his straining erection.  
  
Daisuke smiled down on Ken, his hands fisting in the coverlet as Daisuke took gentle hold on his penis, smearing milky pre-cum across the head. Daisuke dropped to one knee, steadying Ken’s hip with one hand as his tongue darted out to tease the small slit, once, twice and then a third time before taking it into his mouth. Ken’s hands knotted painfully in Daisuke’s hair, somehow managing to both pull and push against Daisuke simultaneously. Daisuke allowed Ken’s dick to slide from his mouth with a growl, reaching up to ply Ken’s hands from his head and trap them against the thinner boy’s chest, ignoring the whimper of protest. Daisuke stood, pushing the boy back against the bed, using his added mass to his best advantage and ignoring the conspicuous way Ken’s erection continued to twitch against his thigh.  
  
“Be still.” It was clear Ken understood the implicit command hidden within the simple statement, unable to prevent a small, almost frightened noise from escaping his throat but still allowing Daisuke to reposition his arms above his head without a fight. Daisuke’s weight disappeared momentarily, the bed creaking as he slid off to reach into the still open table drawer. When he stood back up, Ken was just as he had left him, hands fisted around the topmost edge of the coverlet. “That's right,” Daisuke praised, running the back of his hand down the side of Ken’s face in a gentle, almost loving gesture.  
  
Ken shuddered at the simple touch, turning his face away, his bottom lip caught between sharp teeth. Daisuke fought the urge to sigh, closing his eyes a second in the hopes that it might block out the image of the frail, trembling boy. It did not work. The figure had long since been burned deep into the back of Daisuke’s eyelids. Daisuke briefly considered leaving Ken as he was before deciding against it. It had not taken him long to realize that Ken would most certainly have things his way, whether Daisuke was willing to comply or not. In the end, it was easier for them both just to play along.  
  
Daisuke reached up to gently take Ken’s wrists, binding first one, then the other as loosely as he dared before looping the end of the cord over and around the railed frame of the bed. He tugged the end tight, forcing Ken’s arms up long and straight, before allowing the excess cord to fall behind the back of the headboard and moving his hands downward, massaging light arcs along Ken’s torso. Daisuke paused, bending down to torment Ken’s still tender and erect nipples momentarily with his tongue before suddenly reaching down with a not so gentle squeeze for Ken’s dripping erection. Ken’s hips arched, coming up from off the bed to press into Daisuke’s harsh embrace, the groan erupting from the back of Ken’s throat being more than enough to tell Daisuke the older boy was almost at his limit.  
  
Daisuke braced his hands on Ken’s hips, pushing the boy back against the bedding as he dipped down to run his tongue along the side of Ken’s dick, circling the head once before taking it in his mouth and sucking as hard as he could. Ken’s hips fought the weight pinning them, thrashing first up and down and then side to side in some hope of finagling their own release. Only as Daisuke felt Ken’s building tension start its penultimate crescendo did he sit up, suddenly releasing the pressure on Ken’s hips as he wrapped thumb and forefinger around the base of Ken’s shaft, pinning him in yet another cruel prison. Ken’s hips made use of their newfound freedom, pumping dryly, Ken crying out as the pressure refused to abate.  
  
Loosening his fingers only as Ken’s desperate motions started to still, his heartbeat slowing and his cries morphing into little more than pained whimpers, Daisuke slowly, gently, leaned over the still softly shuddering form to place a cool kiss on Ken’s feverish cheek. He sat back, licking at the salty residue from his lips before nudging at Ken’s side, telling him without words that he was expected to roll over. Ken did as requested without argument, only crying out as his tender erection became trapped between his stomach the quilted coverlet. Not that it was for long however, with Ken quickly scooting up to lean forward on bent elbows, his forehead slanting down to rest against his bound wrists.  
  
Daisuke frowned at the easy compliance even as he reached for the bottle he had placed on the bedside table a moment earlier. In all honesty, he much preferred the nights when the dark haired boy chose to fight more against his rough embrace. That Ken so willingly offered his self up for what seemed to have become perpetual, all but inevitable, abuse spoke volumes to Daisuke about where Ken’s current mental state lay. He shook his head, disliking the story Ken’s actions told.  
  
Daisuke cursed himself when he felt Ken jump. He had become so caught up in his own thoughts that he had failed to realize just how hard he had been squeezing the small plastic bottle, and now a dollop of what was no doubt very cold gel was slowly gliding down Ken’s side, the already hypersensitive skin twitching at the sensation. Quick fingers swiped at the viscous liquid, Daisuke leaning in to warm the recently molested flesh with his tongue, only to nearly growl with frustration when, without thinking, he absentmindedly wiped his sticky fingers clean on his pants.  
  
Sitting up, Daisuke snatched at the bottle of lubricant from where it had fallen on the bed beside Ken, willing himself to focus while fighting the urge to ponder his own continued distraction. It certainly was not because of Ken, kneeling crouched, rear presented, waiting. Slicking down a finger, Daisuke ruthlessly probed Ken’s ass, thankful when, at Ken’s sharp gasp, his own cock finally began to jerk with curiosity.  
  
Daisuke grunted, pressing his burgeoning erection against the edge of the bed and using the sexless friction to escalate his own interest even as he assaulted Ken with a second finger. Daisuke reached forward with his other hand, surprised to find his abrupt intrusion had not slackened Ken’s erection in the slightest. He ran a finger down the length of Ken’s shaft, pressing gently at the silky flesh of the base even as he scissored the two fingers in Ken’s ass, mellowing the resistant tissues in preparation for the third.  
  
Ken’s lithe body pressed back, begging for more contact even as Daisuke continued push his fingers deeper and deeper into him, a strangled sort of gasp finally alerting Daisuke to the fact that he had found the very spot Ken had so desperately trying to force his finger toward. Daisuke smirked, hand reaching around to thumb the slick tip of Ken’s erection even as he purposefully fingered Ken’s prostate again and again.  
  
Daisuke removed both of his hands, reaching down to unzip his own, now very eager, cock, freeing it easily before leaning forward to press the warm flesh against Ken even as softly questioned, “Will you be a good little boy, Ken?” Daisuke pressed his hips even closer against Ken’s, using both hands to pull Ken’s hips in as tightly as their flesh would allow. “Well?” he queried again.  
  
At Ken’s nod of acquiescence, Daisuke released his hips, allowing Ken’s body a momentary respite as he praised, "Good,” quickly slicking his own member with the all too familiar combination of gel and pre-cum. Daisuke carefully positioned himself just at the edge of Ken’s opening, gripping Ken’s hips tightly even as he tried to ignore how easy it was for his fingers to outline the hard ridge of bone. Then, without a word of warning for Ken, he thrust forward, jerking Ken’s hips back so that his shaft buried itself deeply within Ken’s body in one swift motion. Ken’s body tightened painfully around Daisuke, even as Ken tried his hardest to muffle his involuntary cry.  
  
Daisuke did not give Ken’s body time to adjust, starting to move almost immediately, first with long deep strokes, but quickly devolving into shallow, quick thrusts as nature overtook his original intentions. Ken accepted the changing rhythm without words, pressing his face into the coverlet in an attempt to stifle the mewling cries that willpower alone could not halt.  
  
A hand snaked down underneath Ken, massaging his half flagging erection until it regained its previous strength, the slick movement sending wave after wave of pleasure along Ken’s spine, the ripples fighting for dominance against those caused by the pain of Daisuke’s harsh entry. Only when Daisuke could feel Ken’s insides clinching with anticipation, did he lean across Ken’s sweat dampened back, placing a soft kiss right at the nape of Ken’s neck before whispering softly into the blood warmed ear, “That's my good Kenny-boy.” That was all it took. Within seconds, Ken came violently, his cum dirtying the coverlet under his stomach even as Daisuke shuddered forcefully against his body, his member easily sliding from Ken’s body as it slowly lost its rigidity.  
  
Daisuke did his best to keep his full weight from falling against Ken as he counted out the moments until his breathing would return to normal and the heavy haze of fatigue that seemed to make every muscle in his body weak would improve. As his mind slowly started to clear, Daisuke reached up and tugged at the knot binding Ken’s wrists to the top of the bed, relieved when the ties quickly came loose. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently rolled the older boy over, pulling back the sullied coverlet and settling Ken underneath, deftly ignoring the clearly identifiable tear tracks that ran down Ken’s face even as he brushed a few wayward strands of hair away from Ken’s face.  
  
Daisuke smiled sadly, reaching up to switch off the bedside lamp even as Ken turned still-masked eyes away, rolling over and on to his side and tucking his knees up protectively against his body. Daisuke wiped his hands along the bed before haphazardly realigning his clothes and feeling his way as best he could back toward the room’s door. He slid the door open, pausing only momentarily to study the huddled figure on the bed, trapped, or so it seemed by the rectangular shaft of light from the passageway that rushed in to fill the inky darkness of the room, almost gleeful in its tortured clarity.  
  
And clarity was the one thing Daisuke did not want. It confused him. It confused him in a way that made it nearly impossible to ignore the still softly audible cries ringing in his head. It confused him in the way that only wanting to protect the one you hate can.  
  
Daisuke quickly stepped out of the room, shutting the door firmly. He pretended he never heard the pained whimper, “ _Onii-sama_.”  
  
  
-8-8-8-  
  
  
**_Ken had yet to answer his question and Takeru was determined to wait him out, even if more and more this seemed to be becoming a battle of the wills, the sole purpose of which was to slowly, and remorselessly drive Takeru insane._**  
  
**_But, really, Ken had long since forgotten the question, more interested in watching the small birds vying for the seed someone had left in the stone lantern just outside the window. He understood what it was that Takeru wanted. He just did not know what it was that Takeru thought that he could do about it. If Ken had been given any choice in the matter, did Takeru think…_**  
  
**_A smile worked its way to Ken’s lips at the thought. Takeru think, indeed. What were the odds?_**  
  
**_Takeru growled at the way Ken kept laughing under his breath, an odd smirk reflecting back at Takeru through the glass. It was obvious that he was trying to reason with someone who was both fucking insane and also clearly intent on making sure that he became so. What other possible explanation could there be?_**  
  
**_Suddenly the door slid open and Ichijouji Osamu stepped inside, slamming the door shut again even as he surveyed the room’s occupants. “What the hell’s going on in here?”_**  
  
**_Takeru found himself strangely stymied by such a direction question from his oyabun. He had seen Ichijouji-sama upset or even angry any number of times but could honestly say that had never felt as threatened as he did at just this moment. A soft sigh from over by the window drew Takeru’s attention, and thankfully Osamu’s as well. Ken still had not turned to face either Takeru or his brother, but, rather, continued to stare out the window at the garden. Still, Takeru would have sworn that the normally pale boy had lost yet another layer of color._**  
  
**_“We were just talking, Onii-sama,” Ken had pulled his knees up close to his body, the gray school uniform that probably should have been retired months ago in favor of something lighter riding up to reveal white socks. The elder Ichijouji easily closed the distance between the door and the window with a few long strides, gripping Ken’s chin and bodily turning the younger boy so that he was looking up at him. They both held their pose, neither moving until Osamu had satisfied himself of whatever he either did or did not see in Ken’s vacant gaze._**  
  
**_“Get up,” Osamu’s voice was calmer, but somehow it only frightened Takeru more. Takeru watched as Ken carefully unfolded his body, turning to face his brother before standing up from the alcove bench. Ken failed to hide the shiver that ran up his spine when Osamu ran his finger just under the collar at Ken’s neck, making Osamu smile. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like you wearing your uniform at the compound,” Osamu chided Ken, his tone one of a father whose patience was growing thin, “In fact, I’m not really sure I even want you at that school. It’s so far away, and I worry I won’t be there when you need me. Surely there is some alternative that both of us might find a bit more satisfactory, no?” Osamu reached up to tuck a few errant strands of hair behind one of Ken’s ears._**  
  
**_“Onii-sama,” Ken voice broke with the effort of keeping his voice calm even as his brother’s hand next reached forward to undo the first couple of buttons hidden behind the pressed flap on the front of Ken’s uniform jacket. “I can take care of myself.”_**  
  
**_“I know, I know,” Osamu teased, his hand gently kneading at Ken’s shoulder from under the jacket, “I don’t know why I worry so, baby brother. I just do.” Osamu smiled softly, cupping Ken’s chin with his free hand, this time gently raising the younger boy’s face to ask, “Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”_**  
  
**_Ken tried to nod, but his brother’s grip was too firm. Besides they both knew his answer, both knew that he would eventually give in, as he had with everything else. It was only a matter of time, and time, by Osamu’s reckoning, was something of which he had plenty. He could afford to be magnanimous._**  
  
**_Osamu dropped his brother’s chin, his point made, “Go change,” he ordered, nodding over his shoulder towards the door. Ken did not need to be told twice. He quickly stepped around his brother, unable to keep from tugging first at one shirtsleeve than the other as he made his way across the room, intent, it seemed, on shaking off his brother’s lingering touch even before he made it to the door. Ken stopped only long enough to quickly rebutton his top two jacket buttons and give each sleeve one more quick pull before sliding the door open and disappearing down the hall._**  
  
**_Takeru looked at the still open door with ill-disguised longing. He wanted to take his leave too, only he had not been dismissed and he wasn’t so foolish as to think that Ichijouji-sama had forgotten about him. As if he was that lucky._**  
  
**_“Takeru!” No, definitely not that lucky. Takeru called on every last ounce of his willpower in the hope that he would manage to resist the urge to walk over and punch the red headed boy in the jaw._**  
  
**_Ichijouji, too, turned looking at the younger man that was standing in the doorway with a kind of vague perplexity. He could see the sleeve of someone’s, probably Takenouchi’s, kimono as the fought to pull the boy back into the hall. But it did not look to Ichijouji like the young man had any intention of being so persuaded._**  
  
**_“Takeru, let’s go,” the red headed man held out a hand to Takeru, motioning for him to come._**  
  
**_“Damn it, Daisuke,” Takeru could feel the frustration welling up inside of him, threatening to overcome all good senses. There were now two sets of hands tugging at Daisuke’s jacket but still, he showed no inclination of giving in._**  
  
**_Osamu shook his head. As amusing as it was watching Takeru try to maintain his composure, enough really was enough. There was really only so much an oyabun could allow without risking utter chaos. Ichijouji cleared his throat, waiting until he had the red-headed boy’s attention before ordering, “Shut the door.” Daisuke nodded once, easily slipping free of his jacket before stepping inside the room and pulling the door shut._**  
  
**_It took Ichijouji Osamu a second to come to terms with the fact that, while the door was indeed shut, somehow, the red-headed boy still stood in the room. In fact, he probably would have studied the red-head longer had Takeru not started toward the boy in question, clearly intending him some harm._**  
  
**_“Takeru-kun.” Takeru stopped short when he heard the oyabun call his name. Not that he took his eyes off of Daisuke for even a second. No, he fully intended to let his kohai know just what he thought of his behavior, starting a good kick in the ass._**  
  
**_“I saw you in the hall earlier,” Osamu stated, studying Daisuke, “You reminded me of someone then.” Osamu admitted, his eyes narrowing, “Even more so now. Your name?”_**  
  
**_Daisuke went so far as to actually point at his own chest in hopes of confirming that the oyabun was actually speaking to him before realizing that he was the only person to which he could be referring, “Motomiya,” Daisuke answered, “Motomiya Daisuke.”_**  
  
**_“Hmmm, Motomiya, I don’t know that name.” Osamu admitted._**  
  
**_“Kido sent him over.” Takeru volunteered, “He’s only been here a couple of months.” Something about the way Takeru ground out the words “a couple of months” made Daisuke worry they might just end up being his last. But, strangely, Ichijouji Osamu seemed to find it amusing._**  
  
**_“Is that so?” he asked, “Well Motomiya, you are either very brave, or very stupid.”_**  
  
**_“Or very both,” Takeru growled under his breath._**  
  
**_“Or very both,” Osamu concurred good-naturedly, “But you see, as much as I’d like to let you take Takeru-kun and go, I can’t.” He offered Daisuke a thin smile. “Please understand,” Osamu continued, “I, too, have a soft spot in my heart for our Takeru-kun, but I’ve told him to leave Ken-chan alone and as oyabun I simply cannot allow him to get away with such blatant disobedience. He must be punished.” Takeru had known it was coming since the oyabun had walked into the room. Still the words chilled him to his core._**  
  
**_“I don’t see why,” Daisuke shrugged, “Your brother seemed okay to me.”_**  
  
**_“Did he?” Osamu asked, smiling again, though Daisuke was coming to distrust that smile more and more, “Well, unfortunately, looks can be deceiving. My brother has had a rough year, what with our father dying and then the death of one of his close friends.” Osamu shook his head sadly though his eyes reflected only some far off anger, “That was my fault,” he admitted, “I should have nipped that little relationship in the bud sooner,” Osamu’s voice had taken a hard edge, “I won’t make that same mistake again.”_**  
  
**_“Oh!” Daisuke seemed to have finally put two and two together, fist pounding open palm has he explained, “Then there’s nothing to worry about.” At Osamu’s questioning look he continued, “Takeru hates your brother.” Daisuke even went so far as to roll his eyes, “Everyone knows that,” he assured the oyabun, “So…there’s nothing to worry about,” he repeated._**  
  
**_“Oh?” Osamu found himself questioning, oddly bemused by the boys subjective logic._**  
  
**_“Sure,” Daisuke promised, “And I can even make it so that you won’t have to worry about him bothering your brother ever again.”_**  
  
**_“Is that so?” Osamu decided that it was the younger man’s confidence that was so entrancing._**  
  
**_“Sure,” Daisuke agreed easily._**  
  
**_“And if he does?”Osamu pressed._**  
  
**_Daisuke did not even hesitate, “Then I’ll kill him,” he promised the oyabun with a smile, an eerily emotionless smile. One that provided no warmth in his oddly blank face, “I’ll give you my word.”_**  
  
  
**_And, strangely, Ichijouji Osamu was certain that he could believe that._**

* * *

 


	6. So Take This Night

 

Daisuke slid the door to Takeru's room open carefully, careful to lift at just the right moment to keep it from scraping along the worn section of track. He slipped inside, pulling it back shut again with a near silent rap. Daisuke stood, watching the softly breathing man on the futon, assuring himself that he had not awoken Yamato. Only when he was certain that the blond man was still asleep did Daisuke move carefully across the tatami, pausing only long enough to confirm with a vague since of nostalgia the heavy intake of breath and near silent exhalation before making his way over to the window alcove and the only source of light: the full moon.

Settling in and leaning his head against the cold glass he found his eyes unable to draw their attention away from the odd way Yamato's blond hair reflected the light of the moon more intensely than anything else in the room. Daisuke caught himself smoothing creases out of Takeru's letter before he had even realized he had removed it from his pocket. As much as the truth exasperated him, there was no denying the exacting perfection inherent in each neatly scripted character.

So clearly Takeru and his eternally damned hope.

" _To my most respected elder brother-_

_How's that for reverence? Enjoy it? I hope so. I don't think I could write it again without laughing and if I wake Daisuke up now, I'll never hear the end of it. Did you know that there are still people out there who still insist upon linking hair color to intelligence? Indeed! But for all that, he's not so bad. Sure, he takes a while to grow on you, but now, I can't even imagine being able to keep my sanity in here without him. Not that you can ever tell him. His head would grow so big it would explode. Really. KABOOM! That kid's ego has no natural boundaries._

_Still, that's not really what I wanted to say...what I wanted to ask._

_So tell me: have you ever done something, anything you've regretted at a later date?_

_Of course you have. We all have. But then, I don't suppose this is the same as running off to a concert late at night or trying to paint the cat. I wish I could say that I possess the moral superiority to hate everything and everyone connected with this part of my life. But I cannot. And if that is what condemns me, I've accepted it._

_So why then do I find myself unable to move forward along the only path left open to me without sending this to you?_

_Really, I just wanted to tell you that I never forgot._

_God, I wanted to forget sometimes._

_You'll never know how very hard I tried._

_And because I couldn't, I feel that I can count on you for at least this much._

_I'm sorry._

_It's all gone to hell. I find myself wondering now if we ever had any hope of saving anything or if we were only deluding ourselves. Daisuke likes to pretend that he doesn't know but then I'll catch him watching me and I can see the truth in his eyes. We were too arrogant. Some things are just beyond the power of a few stupid kids._

_I know that only telling you this much is unfair. But as my brother, I hope you can understand._

_It is the weak part of me needs for something of me, of us to escape, to be free. I recognize that only knowing that, will I be able to do what must be done. And it must._

_Forgive me._

_Your ever faithful younger brother, Takashi Takeru"_

"Where's my brother?" The sudden query did not seem to spook Daisuke, eliciting only a sigh as he allowed his head to fall back against the wall with a heavy thud, eyes closed.

"I know that you're the Daisuke that Takeru mentions." Yamato intended it to be a simple statement of fact but somehow it came out more as an accusation. Finally Daisuke opened his eyes, turning to where Yamato now sat upright, the top cover of the futon pushed back so as to reveal Yamato's tee-shirt, the white bandages at his wrists flashing bright as he moved to brush some of his still oddly-luminescent hair from out of his eyes.

"Yeah?" Daisuke questioned softly, only to surprise Yamato a second later when he stood suddenly, stepping quickly across the room to where Yamato sat. With barely a pause, Daisuke pressed a cold hand against the top of Yamato's head, a gesture Yamato took to be a request for silence as Daisuke quickly closed the distance between the center of the room and the door.

Daisuke reached out and quietly slid the door open, eyeing the man standing there carefully, "Ken."

Yamato's eyes studied the frail figure in surprise. If Daisuke had not called the man by his name, Yamato doubted he would have recognized the intense _oyabun_ from earlier in the fragile, beaten boy standing all too exposed in the suddenly harsh moonlight.

"You shouldn't be here," Daisuke stepped between Ichijouji and Yamato's line of sight before softening his voice, "Is there something you needed?"

This, at least, seemed to awaken some of Ken's inner strength. He straightened slightly, reaching up to smooth some of his mussed hair behind his ear. Even with Daisuke running interference, Yamato could not help but notice the marks along Ken's wrist, not unlike his own, as the sleeve of Ken's thin yukata fell open. Suddenly Yamato felt the need to look away of his own accord, turning his eyes instead to the naked branches visible outside his window, unsure why he suddenly felt so sick.

"You weren't in your room." Yamato did not know if it would be better to tune out or to listen to the younger men's conversation.

"No." He did not even know if he wanted to tune out or to listen to their conversation.

"I found it." Still, the silence of the night made his decision for him. He could even hear the barely whispered, "Shinjuku. It all leads back to Shinjuku."

There was a long pause as Daisuke considered what Ken had told him.

"I'm certain." Ken answered Daisuke's unasked question, "I-" Ken trailed off without continuing, but Daisuke could easily see the hurt behind the dark purple of his eyes. He nodded slowly.

"I'll take Miyako."

"No." Ken shook his head, a hand reaching up yet again to brush at the hair that kept falling in front of his eyes, "Take Minamoto." He paused again, looking away, "Make it quick." Daisuke nodded again before realizing that Ken was not looking at him. He swallowed thickly, trying to clear the lump in his throat before he answered, "Okay."

Ken nodded, "I'm-," his eyes turned back to Daisuke and then over Daisuke's shoulder to where Yamato sat, his head turned away from their conversation. Ken fought the urge to let out an irritated growl. "Take care of it," Ken's voice had taken on the sharper tone of the _oyabun._ Yamato turned his head, questioning blue eyes meeting sharp violet. He found himself unable to drop the _oyabun's_ gaze even as Ken turned his attention back to Daisuke. "I'm going to bed."

"I'll take care of everything," Daisuke assured Ken quietly, not surprised in the slightest when Ken ignored him completely, turning and making his way back toward his end of the compound. Daisuke watched as the thin form ghosted down the corridor, the light from the pale skin growing fainter until finally it was lost around a corner.

Daisuke sighed, shaking his head. Shibuya. Huh. He ignored silent voice complaining, " _ **It's too soon**."_

"Get dressed." The short command caused Yamato to jump, the hard edge of Daisuke's tone frightening, "I'll be back shortly." Yamato barely managed a nod before Daisuke slid the door shut, his footsteps hurrying in the direction Ken had gone.

-8-8-8-

**_Daisuke fiddled with the long sleeves of his black suit. Formal wear had never been his_ _forte_ _, especially when the fall weather felt so much more like late summer than early winter._ **

**_"Just leave it alone already." The tone was harsh, but Daisuke could hear the underlying laughter in Takeru's words. He shrugged uncomfortably, running a finger around his collar._ **

**_"Are you sure it's supposed to fit this way? I feel like I'm choking," Daisuke complained. Takeru just shook his head._ **

**_"Quit fidgeting, or I'll be the one choking you," Takeru glanced over, his blue eyes sparkling with humor, "It's hot enough in here without you and your damn kinetic personality disorder!"_ **

**_"My—" Daisuke's confusion was almost palatable, "huh, what?" Takeru laughed brusquely before stopping short, his eyes suddenly pinned on the person standing just over Daisuke's shoulder._ **

**_"Ichijouji-_ sama _." Takeru greeted the_ oyabun's _younger brother with more respect than usual, Daisuke noted. Or rather, with the_ oyabun _having recently passed... Daisuke's thoughts were cut short by a boot to his shin. He cocked his head at Takeru, whose eyes darted to where Ken stood just behind Daisuke briefly before landing back on Daisuke. It took a second, but Daisuke finally got the point._**

**_"Ichijouji-sama," Daisuke stepped to the side so that he could offer the slightly older boy a polite bow, surprised as he stood back up to catch the look of genuine amusement in the lavender eyes. "Sorry," Daisuke apologized briefly, "I'm not used to all these layers," he tugged at his collar and got kicked again for his effort, "And it's just still so hot."_ **

**_Ken quickly glanced away, his eyes darkening, "Yes." he agreed, "It was damned inconvenient of my brother to go and die before the weather cooled." Ken's voice had instantly taken on a hard, mocking tone as his eyes scanned the room, seemingly looking to land anywhere except on the curly headed boy who stood in front of him._ **

**_Without even thinking, Takeru reached for Daisuke's arm, pulling Daisuke back and placing himself between Ichijouji and Daisuke. But Daisuke was past needing Takeru to fight his battles._ Sempai _or no, Daisuke was more than capable of holding his old in this world and he was determined to make the blond man understand as much. He jerked his arm away from Takeru's tight grip, stepping to the side so that the three once again formed an equilateral triangle._**

**_"I'm sorry." Daisuke stated plainly, blithely ignoring the death glares that Takeru was shooting his way, "Really," he persisted, leaning in as if to press his point. After a long second, violet eyes flitted towards Daisuke, still harsh with their anger, but listening, "I didn't mean it that way." Daisuke offered a small smile up to the taller boy in apology._ **

**_Ken held Daisuke with his eyes. Cold, scornful, he looked down on the shorter boy as if he were no better than a lowly insect, interesting for his iridescent exoskeleton perhaps, but of no real consequence. Finally though, something in those eyes seemed to relent, anger giving way to fatigue._ **

**_"I know you didn't." Ken admitted, thrown off by the red-headed boy's strangely calm insistence. Most people, even full grown men, tended to flee at even the smallest hint of anger from the youngest Ichijouji. Was Daisuke's brashness due to his friendship with Takaishi-_ kun _, possibly the only member of the compound willing openly antagonize the youngest member of the leader's family? Ken's eyes flitted over to where the blond in question stood, hands tightly fisted at his sides, eyes closely watching Ken and Daisuke's exchange. No, Ken felt his lips twist with just the barest hint of amusement, Takaishi-_ kun _definitely did not approve of his_ kohai's _frankness._**

**_What then? A complete lack of self-concern? Utter idiocy? Both seemed vaguely possible, and yet, Ken could not quite bring himself to despise the younger boy for such weakness. Ken smiled, somewhat disconcerted when the gesture was parroted back at him with even greater aplomb._ **

**_Takeru could feel his chest tightening at the odd way Ichijouji kept studying Daisuke. He did not like it, not one bit, and while he could clearly see that at times, the older boy found himself nonplussed by the younger, Ichijouji did not seem to be in any hurry to break off the encounter. In fact, if Takeru did not find it so difficult to believe himself, he would have almost thought that the only remaining Ichijouji son was actually enjoying himself. It was Takeru, not the notoriously touchy Ichijouji, who found himself fighting the urge to slap away Daisuke's hands when they reached up to point out something of interest on the badge on Ichijouji's lapel._ **

**_So distracted was Takeru that he completely failed to notice the older woman that now stood behind Ichijouji until the woman's companion cleared his throat roughly. All three boys turned toward the sound, Takeru with surprise, Daisuke with curiosity and Ken with thinly veiled annoyance._ **

**_"Mother." Ichijouji's aggravation was almost palpable, the name more a question of purpose than a family greeting. The woman's softly pained smile faltered momentarily before regaining its resigned fortitude._ **

**_"The priest is ready to begin," she informed the three boys, looking at her youngest son as she asked, "Please escort me to the front."_ **

**_For a minute, it almost seemed to Daisuke as if Ichijouji might deny the simple request, that he might turn a leave the large room where his brother's wake was about to begin without so much as a single word of explanation. But just as Daisuke was about to reach out and grab the arm of the older boy in hopes of stopping what he was quickly coming to fear was unstoppable, Ichijouji turned, and with something painfully similar to hopeless resignation, offered his arm to the older woman._ **

**_"Ichijouji-_ sama _?" Daisuke did not even realize he had spoken until Takeru jerked his elbow, a hissed, "Quiet!" piercing his ear._**

**_Ichijouji stopped short, the woman glancing over her shoulder at the red headed boy even as her youngest son seemed determined to fight the urge to do the same._ **

**_"Ichijouji-_ sama _," Daisuke repeated, making only the most token of pauses before continuing, "May I offer some incense to your brother?"_**

**_It was the most perfunctory of questions requiring only the most perfunctory of answers, or so the woman would have thought. But the pained look on her son's face would suggest otherwise. She glanced again at the young boy who waited for her son's answer with open earnestness._ **

**_Ken sighed, a self-depreciating smile flickering at the edges of his mouth. To think that he had found himself thrown by such an obvious question. It seemed ridiculous._ **

**_"Of course," the older boy informed the younger, no hint in his voice of the desire to deny the request that he had just fought so hard to quell, "Thank you, Motomiya-_ kun _."_**

**_Ken turned, ignoring the deep bow Daisuke offered even as he guided his mother through the crowded room, unsure why the simple show of respect from the younger man terrified him._ **

-8-8-8-

Yamato watched the car's other occupants from the back seat. Daisuke sat on the passenger side, angled so as to always have one eye on the road and on eye on his fellow passengers. Minamoto sat, staring straight ahead, hands, firmly in place on the steering wheel, seemingly too concerned with navigating the increasingly heavy traffic to worry about either Yamato or Motomiya.

"Pull into the garage." Daisuke said nodding towards the underground parking entrance on just ahead on their right.

Minamoto nodded, "It'll be okay if they know we're coming?" he asked, even as he maneuvered the vehicle through traffic towards the gate Daisuke had pointed out.

"Takenouchi's not stupid," Daisuke sighed, turning his head to gaze out his window, "She's known we'd be coming for awhile."

Minamoto rolled down his window, holding a badge up to the scanner momentarily before pulling his hand back inside and rolling the window back up. "Wouldn't that make her more likely to try to run?" he asked casually, glancing over at Daisuke who was still staring out his window.

"Takenouchi won't run." Daisuke stated firmly. "Takenouchi never runs," then, turning back towards his window he whispered, " _the idiot_." Yamato barely caught the quiet words.

Yamato watched Daisuke's eyes even as they seemed to be staring back at him through the smudged glass. He only looked away as Minamoto pulled into a parking spot next to a bank of elevators, turning off the engine.

The car sat silent for a moment. Yamato did not dare move unless told to do so by either Daisuke or Minamoto. Minamoto seemed content to sit and wait for Daisuke to make the first move. Just as Yamato was about say something himself, Daisuke straightened up in his seat, unsnapping the belt with a, "Let's go."

Minamoto was out of the car quickly, tossing the keys to Daisuke over the roof even as Yamato was still trying to shimmy his way out. He waited until Yamato was all the way out and standing next to Daisuke before shooting Daisuke a look that clearly asked, "Are you sure about this?" Daisuke snorted, motioning for both Minamoto and Yamato to follow him as he walked toward the elevators.

In the elevators, Minamoto again used his badge, this time swiping the edge before selecting the top floor. The short ride was completed in silence, broken only by the chime and the softly mechanical voice informing them that they were now on floor thirty-eight.

The doors slid open a second later revealing a surprisingly plain corridor, the gray of the floors flowing uninterrupted up the walls and across the ceiling. At the far end stood a door, as plain as the hallway, marked simply: Office. Minamoto stepped out ahead of them, making his way down the hall at a quick clip. Yamato made as if to step out of the elevator, but Daisuke brushed him back with an arm, giving him a hard look before stepping off the elevator, the words low so that Minamoto would not overhear, "Stay with me."

Minamoto was already at the door, one hand turning the knob even as he gave a sharp rap with then knuckles of the other. Without waiting for a reply he opened the door and stepped inside, Daisuke and Yamato right behind him.

At first, it took Yamato a second to come to terms with the utter silence in the room. Sitting behind a smallish desk was a woman no older than himself wearing a kimono. She ignored everyone but Daisuke, fixing him with a look of bland acceptance even as she pushed back from the desk, allowing her body to fall back against her chair as if fatigued.

"Hello Daisuke," her voice was soft, warm even, but held a tinge of sadness.

"Sora." Daisuke took a step forward, offering her a small smile, "I suppose you know why we're here."

She nodded, "I know why you're here," she confirmed, adding, "What I don't know is why now?" For just the barest of seconds, her eyes flashed over Yamato, her brows knitting close before relaxing.

Daisuke seemed to consider the question for a long time, his face blank, his eyes dark with their lack of emotion. He looped a finger through the elastic bridge of the goggles hanging limp around his neck, pulling them tight and releasing them, pulling them tight and then releasing them, pulling them tight-"I guess it's just time," he pinned Sora with his eyes, his face breaking into a smile that was almost painful enough to make Sora cry.

Sora nodded, "So that's how it is going to be," she agreed, standing up, "Just like Taichi," she could not help the slight hitch in her voice, "or Takeru."

Daisuke's eyes shut briefly, the pain rising up in his chest against his will, but he fought it back down. That was the response Sora had been aiming for, and Daisuke knew it. Daisuke worked hard to keep all emotion from his face, allowing Sora's simple accusation to hang in the air as if it were of little consequence. When he was certain that he had himself under control, his eyes flashed back open, boring deep into Sora, "No." he swallowed dryly, forcing the words out, "Not like Takeru."

Yamato could not help it. At the mention of his brother's name, he felt himself moving forward, wanting to hear more, needing to hear more. Needing to ask this Sora woman what it was she was trying to say and what it was Daisuke seemed so unwilling to acknowledge. But before he could get even half a step, Daisuke had moved in front of him, forcing Yamato's body back towards the office wall with a gentle if unyielding insistence. Yamato looked down on the curly head that seemed so intent on shielding him from some yet to be seen danger then across the room to where Minamoto now stood, leaning back against the wall, legs crossed nonchalantly. Yamato was not really sure whose reading of the situation he should take more seriously, but somehow the red headed man won out.

"Not like Takeru." Daisuke repeated again, his tone leaving little room for argument even as he attempted to stare down Takenouchi. Daisuke's eyes were angry. Angry and hurt and deep, deep within their centers almost seemed to be begging Takenouchi for a favor. She cocked her head to the side, thinking, her own eyes once more on Yamato as she tried her best to come to terms with what she thought Daisuke was asking of her.

"You know what this will mean?" she asked, her attention centered once more on Daisuke, "All the years of hard work. Are you trying to tell me you are okay with it all coming to nothing?" She threw her hands up in the air, angry. Yamato glanced across the room to Minamoto. He was still leaning against the wall, completely indifferent to Daisuke and Sora's seemingly cryptic argument.

"I'll take care of everything." It was spoken softly, an undeniable amount of pain dripping through. Even Minamoto looked up, giving Daisuke a questioning look before biting back his own curiosity.

"Can you?" Sora seemed discomfited by Daisuke's pain, part of her hesitating to push the younger man when he seemed so vulnerable, but the other part knowing she couldn't risk leaving the job undone. Daisuke turned, giving Yamato a long, hard look before turning back to Sora. He nodded.

"Okay." She said it first very softly to herself, then with a bit more strength, "Okay. If that's how you want to play it, okay." Sora leaned over, making like she was bracing her hands on the edge of the desk even as her fingers pressed the push button underneath.

Daisuke frowned, a hint of _something_ flitting over his face before he ducked his eyes, his hands reaching into his jacket for what Yamato somehow knew was going to be a gun even before Daisuke had withdrawn it. Daisuke's choice of weapons did, however, seem to startle Minamoto, who pushed off of the wall, bracing himself for action even as the weapon settled on Takenouchi.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way." Sora's words did not contain even a dash of fear, only genuine heartbroken sadness. She looked away, her eyes blinking rapidly.

"I'm not." Daisuke smiled softly, trying in his own way to offer Sora comfort.

She looked back at him, returning the same soft smile even as she whispered, "I know," shaking her head as Daisuke cocked his weapon.

It was unexpected to say the very least, the pink haired woman busting into the small office, pointing a dangerously outdated Tokarev at Daisuke even as she shouted, "Stop!" Yamato took step back, bumping against the wall. Daisuke, however, did not so much as flinch, his weapon never leaving its target even as his eyes swung around, "Mimi," he greeted their newest guest.

"Daisuke," she answered back, her voice kept purposefully coy, "Is there something going on that I should know about?"

Daisuke ignored the question, his eyes moving to where Minamoto stood ready, waiting to be told what it was he would be expected to do. After a long look and a weary sigh, Daisuke turned his attention back to Tachikawa, offering her an indifferent kind of shrug, "We were just discussing some of the bookkeeping," he explained casually, something that may have been vaguely believable had he not still had a lethal weapon trained on Takenouchi.

Nevertheless, Mimi seemed okay with playing along, "Oh, I see, I see," she nodded, her own weapon bobbing unsteadily in her less than fantastic grip. Daisuke just sighed, shaking his head.

"Minamoto." The person in question looked up, happy, it seemed, to finally see some action, "Please relieve Tachikawa- _san_ of her weapon before she accidentally shoots someone."

Minamoto did not hesitate despite the fact the he, himself appeared to be unarmed, moving toward Mimi with quick, steady strides. He was so focused on keeping her gun in his line of sight that he failed to even notice when Daisuke's weapon left Sora, swinging around, its base coming to rest firmly on the palm of Daisuke's left hand as he drew his bead and fired.

It only took the shortest of seconds. There was a loud crack, Tachikawa screamed, her arm recoiling from the discharge of her own gun as Minamoto fell first to his knees and then at her feet. Minamoto was dead before his body had even come to rest.

"Fuck." Sora's quiet statement was the first to break the silence.

Daisuke ignored the obscenity, putting his gun back in its holster under his jacket before wrapping his right arm around his side, "Are Jyou and Koushiro here?" When Sora nodded, Daisuke motioned to Yamato, "Takeru's idiot brother," he muttered, though introductions hardly seemed necessary by this point, "He's going with you."

"Wha?" Yamato began, this being the first he had heard of anyone going anywhere but he was quickly silenced by an ugly look before Daisuke leaned back against him as if he were relaxing. Yamato watched the red headed man carefully. Something about the way Daisuke was resting his weight against Yamato's chest, his eyes closed, his mouth still set in a hard, grim line bothered the blond man.

"Dais-" Yamato begin, but he was quickly cut off.

"What the fuck is taking them so long?" Daisuke complained.

"I don't know. I'll-" Sora paused mid-thought, hand still reaching for the telephone on her desk, "Daisuke?" It was about then that Yamato first noticed the warm stickiness working though his shirt. He put his own hand down to his middle, fingers gently probing between he and Daisuke. There was no pain, but when he looked down at his hand, he could plainly see the rapidly drying blood on his fingertips.

"Daisuke?" Yamato could not keep the worried tremor out of his voice. Daisuke just sighed, still not opening his eyes.

"You're fine," Daisuke's tone suggesting he was talking to an exhausting young child, " _I'm_ fine. Really." his eyes opened momentarily to silence whatever it was Takenouchi had yet to even say, "The bullet barely caught me." Mimi gasped, both hands, flying up to cover her look of horror despite the fact that she was still clutching the Tokarev. Yamato flinched as the gun swung back down, Mimi quickly skirting Minamoto's body like it were little more than a piece of furniture in the room as she hurried over to where Yamato now seemed to be supporting most of Daisuke's weight.

"Oh my god! Daisuke! Are you okay?" Yamato tried not to cringe as she swung the gun about with every overly dramatic gesture. Daisuke opened his eyes again, seemingly even more difficult for him now than it had been mere seconds before, to pin the pink haired girl with a disgruntled glare.

"No. I'm not okay," he groused, "You fucking shot me." His eyes tracked the weapon as, again, both hands flew up to cover her look of dismay. "God." Daisuke looked at her with disbelief, "Will you put that damned thing down before you finish the job?"

"Oh my god!" Mimi repeated again, looking at the gun in her hand for the first time with surprise written all over her face. She quickly set it down on the floor at her feet, toeing it close to the wall beside Yamato before turning her attention back to Daisuke. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" With each apology, her voice seemed to increase an octave.

Daisuke, though, ignored her apologies, turning his eyes back to Sora, "Who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to give Mimi a gun?"

Sora did not have time to answer though because Jyou chose that moment to enter the room, a shorter man with spiky red hair and a yellow laptop computer right behind him. They both paused in the doorway a second, trying to take in the scene.

"Well it's about fucking time," Daisuke almost seemed as if he were going to smile. But before he could, he blacked out.

-8-8-8-

**_Daisuke slid the door to Takeru's room open slowly, careful to lift at just the right moment to keep it from scraping along the worn section of track. He slipped inside, pulling it back shut again with a near silent rap only to turn around find himself the sole subject of questioning blue eyes._ **

**_"Hi," the simple greeting seemed silly this late in the night but it was out before Daisuke could stop it. Takeru snorted, shaking his head even has he scooted over, lifting the_ kakebuton _and motioning for Daisuke to slip under. Daisuke was quick to oblige. The season had finally started to turn towards winter and the colder nights seemed even colder against his naturally warm skin._**

**_"You're freezing." Takeru complained even as he worked to remove Daisuke's shirt. Daisuke smiled at the non sequitur._ **

**_"We just got back." Daisuke was doing his best to help Takeru but his own hands just seemed to be getting in the way. Takeru impatiently slapped them away, scowling._ **

**_"You were with Ichijouji again."_ **

**_Daisuke frowned at the blond's tone. "You know I'm only doing what you wanted me to do. Besides, Ken's not always that bad-" Daisuke stopped short, the look on Takeru's face telling him that he would not be convincing the blond man of any such thing tonight. At least Takeru seemed content on taking his frustration out on Daisuke's shirt rather than on Daisuke himself, grabbing the edge of the tee-shirt and jerking it up and over Daisuke's head with unnecessary force. Daisuke could not help his hiss of pain as the piece of clothing was yanked past the small square of gauze taped to his back._ **

**_"Ow!" Daisuke flinched, inadvertently ducking his shoulder in a pointless attempt to save it from the injury that had already occurred._ **

**_"What is it?"Takeru's blue eyes searched over what he could see of Daisuke, his worry apparent, "Were you hurt?"_ **

**_"It's nothing," Daisuke felt somewhat embarrassed by the fact that he had even reacted to the small pain. He reached over his shoulder, nails picking at the edge of the tape a second until it loosened enough for him to grab hold and pull the entire bandage off. He showed it to Takeru before tossing it over to where the goggles Takeru usually wore around his neck were lying on the_ tatami _._**

**_Takeru sat back, pulling Daisuke up and over with him so that he could get a better look at what the bandage had been covering in the dim moonlight. All he could make out was a small raised area right near the top of Daisuke's shoulder blade. It looked a little swollen and there may have been a tiny incision, but Takeru couldn't really be sure. He prodded at it with his fingertips, earning himself an annoyed hiss from Daisuke._ **

**_"Careful," Daisuke protested, "it's still tender."_ **

**_Takeru sat back, trying to look Daisuke in the eye, "What_ is _it?" For some reason though, Daisuke was refusing to make eye contact._**

**_"It's nothing," Daisuke repeated again, this time shrugging. Takeru did not buy it for a second. His hands gripped Daisuke's shoulder, his fingertips digging deep into the flesh of Daisuke's back, sparing no concern for the still reddened flesh that Daisuke had just told him was tender._ **

**_"God damn it!" Daisuke jerked his body out from under Takeru's angry grip, annoyed with the blond man and yet still somehow troubled by having upset him. "It's really nothing to be upset over," Daisuke was aggravated that his voice had already taken on a placating tone. He had wanted to stay angry at Takeru for longer. Still, at the skeptical look Takeru gave him, he could not help but try to explain, "It's just a little something to make it easier for Ken to find me if he needs me. That's all." Daisuke smiled, leaning forward as if to kiss Takeru, trying to remind the blond what it was they had been doing._ **

**_Takeru, however, was not to be so easily distracted. "That's all?" Takeru moved a half space back, making it impossible for Daisuke to reach him even as he pinned him with a dirty glare, "That's all?" he questioned again, "That's bullshit, Daisuke!" Takeru's fisted hand pounded the futon between them._ **

**_"Takeru," Daisuke warned in a low voice, reminding the other boy that was still the middle of the night. Takeru took a deep breath, his head back, eyes closed as he tried to bring his ire under control._ **

**_"That's bullshit, Daisuke," he repeated after a moment, his voice lower but still every bit as angry. "You're telling me that," there was a short pause before Takeru practically spit out the name, "Ken decided he was going to put some chip, some tracker in you like you were no more than some runaway dog. Ken's little pet? And you're okay with that?"_ **

**_Daisuke couldn't help it. He was getting mad again, too, "It's not like that!" he insisted. He did not know why the look of disgust on Takeru's face was enough to make him want to scream, "It's not like that at all!" Takeru gave a derisive snort, turning his face away. Daisuke found himself scooting along the futon until they were once more looking eye to eye, "You're blowing this all out of proportion!" he whisper-pleaded. "Ken's-" Takeru turned his head again at the mention of Ken's name, forcing Daisuke to move to the other side of the bed so as to look him in the face, "Ken's not like that." That, at least, seemed to catch Takeru's attention. He stopped trying to look away and instead pinned Daisuke with a hate filled glare._ **

**_"Not like that?" Takeru asked carefully, his voice barely more than a growl challenging Daisuke to contradict his previous statement._ **

**_Daisuke swallowed dryly. What Takeru did not know is that when he was angry, he could scare Daisuke as much as, or even more than Ken. When the ice slid behind Takeru's eyes, it was all Daisuke to do to manage to speak._ **

**_"You don't know Ken like I do," Daisuke began carefully, not wanting to upset Takeru further but knowing that silence was no longer an option, "I know he has done some terrible things," Daisuke paused, "_ _He_ _knows he's done some terrible things!" Judging by the way Takeru's hands were fisted in the_ kakebuton, _he was fighting hard not to reach out and strike Daisuke, "But you have to understand, that's not the real Ken." Daisuke hesitated, chewing his lower lip as he thought about his next words, "The real Ken can be so gentle and so kind," Daisuke's voice trailed off again momentarily before coming back, "Things are just-"_**

**_"Things are just nothing." Takeru answered shortly. His voice was hard, cold, seemingly without any emotion. "That bastard is the reason Taichi is dead." Takeru's eyes flashed over to where Taichi's old goggles sat near the corner of the futon. "He as good as killed Taichi with his own hands." Takeru reminded Daisuke, "And now, shocker, he's set his sights on you." Takeru pushed himself up from the futon with a grunt, cinching tight his_ yukata _even as he reached for the goggles in question. There was a long pause before Daisuke felt Takeru's hand run through his hair. The blond man sighed, his voice losing its angry edge, "You can't ask me to pretend I don't care."_**

**_"Takeru?" Daisuke could not help but ask as the other boy walked toward the door, leaving Daisuke sitting alone of the futon._ **

**_"I just need a little air," Takeru assured him, slipping out, "Just go to bed."_ **

**_Daisuke watched the door slide shut, unable to hear Takeru's footsteps as he moved down the hallway. He threw himself back against the futon, powerless to contain the pained grunt as he was once again reminded of what had started the fight in the first place. Daisuke closed his eyes, throwing an arm across them as he tried not to think about everything that had just been said._ **

**_Maybe then, he wouldn't find himself wanting to cry._ **

-8-8-8-

Daisuke was not sure where he was. He was comfortable, a vaguely spring-ish breeze rustling the hair at his temples even as a warm hand rubbed comforting circles along his scalp. Daisuke did not understand why the temperate breeze had such a damp, fishy odor, but he did recognize the song the other person continued to sing, voice low, almost to themselves.

"Cree crawl toads foot, geese walk bare foot."

Daisuke smiled at the familiar melody. "How many times have I told you? That doesn't make any sense. It's rubbish!" Daisuke couldn't contain the laughter in his voice, reaching up to run a hand along the side of the blond man's face before even bothering to open his eyes.

"Daisuke?"

Daisuke's eyes flashed open, his mind racing to fix the innate incongruity between the voice and his memories. He looked up at the man sitting above him, his hand still resting alongside Yamato's face, dirty with his own blood. Daisuke pulled his hand back quickly, his arm draping over his eyes even as he turned his face away from Yamato.

"Fuck." It was said a moment later with a worn sense of resignation, "What _the_ fuck?" Daisuke allowed his arm to slide off his face, his fingertips scraping against the dirty floorboard, his eyes now centered on the backside of the front passenger seat. He was in a car. Daisuke looked back at Yamato, upon whose lap his head seemed to be resting, "Seriously," he began calmly enough, but Yamato could easily hear the anger underlying his tone, "What the fuck do you think you are doing here?" Without waiting for a reply, Daisuke pushed himself up into a sitting position, grunting with the effort, even as he wrapped an arm around his waist to protect his wound.

"Woah, woah, woah," Yamato chided, hands ghosting about Daisuke as if that could somehow help, "Be careful. Jyou said you shouldn't be moved." All Yamato got for his concern was a dirty look. "You've lost a lot of blood." Did Daisuke actually just roll his eyes at him?

Daisuke's head turned about, taking in their surroundings. Well the fishy scent made sense. It seemed like they were in some sort of industrial dock. "Where are we?"

Yamato shrugged, "I didn't really know where to go. I wanted to take you to a hospital but Jyou-" Yamato broke off. Daisuke was giving him that look that clearly said that he thought Yamato was an idiot again.

"Well," Yamato tried again, "then I thought about maybe taking you back to the compound," he trailed off, suddenly unable to meet Daisuke's eyes as he admitted to a stack of crates on their left, "but I couldn't remember the way."

At first Yamato wasn't even sure what it was he was hearing, but when he turned back around, he could see that Daisuke was laughing, still holding his side even as his mirth bubbled over.

"You got lost." Daisuke finally supplied for him, shaking his head in disbelief even as he scooted along the backseat towards the far door.

"Well," Yamato began again, trying to beat back the defensiveness in his voice as he followed after Daisuke as he moved across the seat, opened the car door and stepped out into the early morning sun, "I wasn't really paying attention before," he explained, watching as the younger man stretched his neck and shoulders with a grunt, "It didn't occur to me that you might actually shoot the guy who drove us there."

That seemed to bring Daisuke's mind back to his previous question, "Which reminds me," he hit the taller man with an ugly look, "Why the fuck are _you_ here? I thought I told them to take you with them."

"You were unconscious," Yamato was surprised by the hurt in his own voice. He had not really known the younger man a full 24 hours and yet felt genuinely bothered by Daisuke's refusal to even try and depend on him, "I couldn't just leave you lying on the floor…" Yamato's voice trailed off, but Daisuke could pick up on his meaning. As if Minamoto weren't enough.

Daisuke sighed, "And this helps, how?" he questioned Yamato who did not seem to have an answer for that, not that Daisuke had expected him to, then, "Did they even try to beat some sense into you?"

"Of course!" Yamato was quick to back up what he assumed were Daisuke's friends, "I mean, it's not like they were happy about it. That Sora woman even pointed a gun at me," he assured the younger man.

Daisuke, however, was far from impressed, "Yeah?" he questioned blandly, "Well she didn't shoot you. I'd hardly call that _trying_." This time it was Yamato's turn to offer Daisuke a frustrated sigh, which Daisuke ignored, reaching under his jacket to his holster. After a second's hesitation, he pulled open the jacket, looking at the object in question before turning on Yamato, eyes flashing cold, anger hot.

"Where's my weapon?"

"Wha-" Yamato began, taking an involuntary step back even as he raised both hands in defense.

"My gun, Yamato," Daisuke insisted, stepping forward to close their distance again, ignoring the sharp pain in his side suggesting that maybe Jyou's patch job had not quite done the trick, "Or weren't you paying attention to that, either?"

"I don't know!" Yamato insisted. The heat rolling off of the younger man in waves was more than enough to challenge the hottest summer sun. "Really, I don't," Yamato repeated, "Why would someone take your gun?"

Daisuke's eyes flashed shut as he took a few deep breaths, his body still leaning in close to Yamato, "What about Sora," Daisuke finally asked, "The gun she had, was it mine?"

Yamato considered the question for a second before shaking his head, "No. She had that old looking one. She picked it up from where the pink-haired girl dropped it." Daisuke had expected as much. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the car, ignoring Yamato as he tried to think. Koushiro would not have taken it. Jyou was deathly afraid of the damn things. Mimi… no, she could have kept the Tokarev if she really wanted a gun and Sora knew better than anyone just what it was Daisuke was planning to do. It just did not make any sense.

"Lose something?"

Daisuke opened his eyes, a resigned sigh escaping as he acknowledged the dark haired man, "Ken."

"Ichijouji?" Yamato, however, seemed much more surprised to see the young _oyabun_. "How-?" Ken spared him only the smallest of glances.

"I've already told you once," Ken informed the blond man, keeping his eyes on Daisuke the entire time, "I'm no idiot. I would never allow such a valuable piece of property out of my sight without some way of tracking it down." Ken turned the screen of the small electronic device in his hand towards Yamato. There was a pair of colored lights flashing near the center of the grid. Ken put the device back into his pocket with a smirk.

"You bugged the car," Yamato stated matter-of-factly, surprised when Ken laughed and Daisuke turned his head away as if disgusted.

"Don't be stupid," Daisuke complained, pulling a similar device out of his own pocket. On its screen flashed the same two lights, their positions reversed. Ken smiled at Daisuke, a soft, almost kind smile. It seemed oddly incongruous against the coldness of his next words.

"Minamoto's dead." When Daisuke did not respond, Ken continued, "Takenouchi and little friends have scurried away."

Again, Daisuke did not seem particularly concerned, "They'll be easy enough to track," he assured Ken, completely ignoring the look of pained confusion on Yamato's face. "It's the only way we are going to be able to find their contact."

"I suppose," Ken shrugged, "Did you really have to shoot Minamoto?"

Daisuke ignored the unspoken _I liked him_ hanging in the air at the end of Ken's question, "I had to earn their trust somehow," he stated simply. Ken nodded at the simple logic.

"And him?" Ken glanced to where Yamato still stood, something akin to shocked disbelief coloring his features.

Daisuke looked the blond man up and down before releasing a hearty sigh, "He was supposed to go with Sora and the others," Daisuke complained. Ken chuckled at the red headed man's annoyance.

"How sweet," Ken mocked, shooting a knowing glance at the bandages that could be seen through the section of tee-shirt Jyou had had cut away at the side of Daisuke's clothing, "I suppose he thought it was more important to act as your nurse than escape to safety." Ken stepped over to where Yamato stood; making sure the blond man had nowhere to look besides into his mocking eyes, "I guess recklessness really does run in some families." The corners of Ken's mouth quirked at the pain that flashed across Yamato's face. "But to think, older brother, ignorant until the end, walks willingly, eyes open into the same sad fate as younger brother," Ken's lip curled into a snarl, "How tragic," he mocked.

"Ken!" Daisuke's sharp tone caught Ken's attention, the darker haired man turning towards the younger one, "Let. Him. Go." Daisuke enunciated each and every word precisely, dark anger coloring his voice. Ken glanced up to where he had been unknowingly gripping the tender flesh just under Yamato's chin.

"Hn," Ken released Yamato's throat with a mocking sort of shrug. He took an easy step back, smiling at Daisuke, "Just as well," Ken assured him as Yamato reached up, breathing deeply, his hand offering some protection to his abused throat, "Like Takeru, he deserves the chance to look his executioner in the eyes." Ken reached into his light gray suit coat, pulling out a _furoshiki_ wrapped object and handing it to Daisuke, who balanced the weight in his hands, closing his eyes even as he shook his head in disbelief. Did Ken really think of everything?

"Daisuke?" Yamato's voice was rough, uncertain.

"You know it needs to be done," Ken chided Daisuke when he saw the younger man hesitating. Daisuke nodded, swallowing thickly even as he untied the knot in the _furoshiki_ , allowing the edges to fall back, revealing a Glock 22. Daisuke stared at the pistol a long moment before gripping it in his right hand and allowing the cloth to drop to the ground. It was lighter than he was used to, but effective. He brought the gun up and around until it was centered on Yamato. But after only a second's hesitation, he brought the gun back down, flicking the external safety even as he slid the weapon into the holster under his jacket.

"Daisuke…" The ire in Ichijouji's voice was practically palpable. Daisuke ignored it, his eyes never leaving Ken even as he addressed Yamato.

"Do you still have the car keys?"

Yamato nodded before realizing Daisuke wasn't looking at him. Somehow he managed to choke out a strained, "Yeah," involuntarily pushing back against the vehicle in question when Ken took a threatening step in his direction. Not that there seemed to have been a reason to, as Ken's action was quickly countered by Daisuke, who moved so that he stood between the two men, his back to Yamato.

"Good." Daisuke praised, a sarcastic edge to his voice, "Then get in the damned car and get the fuck out of here."

"No." The simple statement was out before Yamato had even thought it.

Daisuke shook his head, seemingly unable to believe that he had heard what he thought that he had just heard. "I'm sorry," Daisuke apologized, his voice oddly polite, "But what?"

"I said no."

This time, Ken actually giggled at Yamato's refusal.

Daisuke, however, was not as amused, "Get in the god-damned car, Yamato." Yamato's only answer was to slide along the side of the car until he was close enough to the edge of the dock to pull the keys out of his pocket and toss them in the water. He turned back towards Daisuke and Ken, almost expectantly.

It only took a second for Daisuke's anger to bubble over. "You god-damned, hard headed, fucking idiot, _blond_ son of a bitch!" he burst as his mind registered the tell-tale splash. Ken nearly doubled over with laughter. Yamato did not wait for him to regain control. He pulled Daisuke's gun out from where he had it hidden in the waistband of his pants and aimed it at the dark haired _oyabun_. That, at least seemed to sober up the younger man.

"Well, well," Ken praised, smothering his laughter even as he stood to his full height, "Maybe someone in your family actually has some guts." Yamato ignored him, cocking the weapon as he had seen Daisuke do earlier, but before he could take the shot, Daisuke was standing between him and Ichijouji again, his weapon pointed at Yamato.

"And you stole my fucking gun?" Daisuke asked slowly, his tone making Yamato flinch. Daisuke was definitely angry.

"Well…yeah," Yamato answered back, not really sure what Daisuke expected him to do about that now, but the fury flashing in those brown eyes was enough to make Yamato think that he needed a good excuse, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Okay, any excuse was better than none.

Daisuke wasn't buying it. He ignored that worrisome stickiness he felt slowly spreading down his side and instead held out his left hand, palm up, even as his right arm held the glock steady, "Give it back." He insisted, motioning with the fingers of his upturned palm for Yamato to bring the weapon in question over. Yamato, however, only lowered the gun a fraction, and only so that he could give Daisuke his best disbelieving look.

"No," he stated plainly, bringing the gun back up to his original position, "Now get out of my way. I'm killing Ichijouji."

"The hell you are," Daisuke took another step in Yamato's direction, fighting the urge to wrap and hand around the twinge in his side even as the damp warmth continued to spread. Things were not working out as planned, not that anything had since the taller blond had arrived, "You don't even know how you use that damned thing."

"I know enough." The way Daisuke rolled his eyes suggested that he might not have agreed, but the point was moot as Ichijouji took that moment to move out from behind Daisuke with a self-satisfied chuckle.

"Well, now, I must say," Ken made no effort to control the humor in his voice, "I realize your welcome wasn't the warmest possible, but I hardly believe it merits my death." Ken chuckled again at Yamato's frustrated scowl as Daisuke quickly moved to stand between them once more.

"Get out of my way, Daisuke," Yamato growled, "I know he killed Takeru." Yamato ignored the pained look that flashed across Daisuke's face as his eyes briefly fluttered shut, sweat beading on his brow. "Stop trying to protect him."

"Well now, that is amusing," Ken remarked, though this time his voice lacked all humor. Ken ignored the aggravated way Daisuke muttered his name as he stepped out to, once again, face Yamato. "I don't know what paints you as the bigger fool: that you think Daisuke would ever try to protect me or that you think that I would risk dirtying my hands by taking out such pointless garbage."

"Ken." This time, the warning in Daisuke's voice was stronger, but he made no move to cover Ken. It almost seemed as if he were fighting hard to just remain standing. Yamato leveled his weapon at the dark haired man.

"You're lying."

Ken's response was almost instantaneous. "I'm lying?" he questioned, his voice low and hard before speaking up to repeat, "I'm _lying_?" Ken's head shook back and forth as if in disbelief, "Do you honestly believe I would waste even a moment on that… that… _insect_ ," and here Ken's voice took on its most disbelieving tone, "or maybe you are so ignorant as to believe by keeping me alive, by forcing me to live, Daisuke is somehow _protecting_ me?"

Yamato did not buy it, "Then what you call it?" he challenged, keeping the dark haired _oyabun_ in his sights even as he fought to banish the image of the previous night's boy from his mind.

"Hate." It was stated simply, without emotion, "Perhaps some ill-considered responsibility or accountability. _Guilt_." Ken glanced over to where Daisuke stood, his legs braced, his normally dark skin oddly pale. "Call it what you will," Ken finally concluded with a shrug before quickly contradicting himself, his voice heavy with distaste, "But don't call it _protection_."

"Fine. Whatever." Yamato's eyes fluttered shut momentarily as he fought back the odd sort of biting pain that bloomed behind them if he tried to even consider the dark haired man's words, "But that—" Yamato broke off suddenly, surprised by the weight of Daisuke's hand on his gun. He must have stepped forward while Yamato had been distracted by Ken. The only thing Daisuke offered him in way of an answer to the unspoken question in his eyes was a dirty look. Daisuke wrenched the weapon out of Yamato's hands with a frustrated growl. Sliding the glock into his holster so that he had both hands free, Daisuke quickly turned the gun Yamato had been brandishing around and flipped off the safety. Then, making sure he had Yamato's full attention, he slid the bar back into the locked position and then slowly released it again, much as if he were trying to explain the mechanism to an illiterate child. Afterwards, Daisuke gave the gun a quick once over to make sure everything was as it should be before handing it back to Yamato, butt first, unable to keep an unenthusiastic sigh from escaping.

Daisuke took a step back, somewhat unsteady on his feet even as he looked down at his middle. What was left of his shirt was matted to the bandages that Jyou had wrapped around his waist, the fabric slowly wicking blood away from his reopened wound. Judging by both that and the tell-tale sensation of blood seeping down his left leg, things would not continue for much longer. Daisuke ignored the odd way his vision seemed to blur and his ears roar every time he moved his head. He let Yamato look deep into his eyes for as long as he dared, hoping, somehow, that the blond would be able to see in them the truth and that he would accept it. When, finally, Daisuke noticed his own sight starting to fade, he took another half step back, offering the blond a true, if sad smile.

"You're being a fucking idiot," he informed Yamato, surprised at how easily the words rolled off his tongue, "Ken didn't kill Takeru." Never mind how worn and tired his voice sounded to himself. It took much of his strength just for him to reach up and put his hand on the grip of the glock and slowly pull it free. He gave Yamato one last wistful look as he raised the weapon, finally, and for the very first time, admitting out loud, "It was me."

The glock fired once and Yamato watched in horror as Daisuke's body crumpled to the ground.

* * *

 


	7. Hearts are Wasted, Lives are Broken

 

**" _I need you."_**

**_Daisuke studied the screen of the D-terminal, shaking his head even as he thought, "What for? Why do you always have to be so damn cryptic?" Still, he pulled his D3 out of his pocket, twisting back and forth to figure the position the flashing light before hurrying in that direction._ **

**_It was closer than he had realized, his step faltering slightly as he recognized the building—the very same building that Takeru had pointed out on Daisuke's first day at the compound, warning Daisuke against ever darkening its doors._ **

**_It isn't wise to toy with old ghosts._ **

**_Or so Takeru had said. Still, the flashing red light on Daisuke's D3 had not moved. Gathering his courage as best as he could, Daisuke took a deep breath, and silently willing his nerves quiet, headed resolutely towards the building._ **

**_Daisuke looked through the already open door into the room's dark interior. It was impossible to make out any detail with his eyes still tuned to the brightness of the day. He made his way forward carefully, his senses tingling with the realization that he was as good as blind, and would be until his eyes finally adjusted. Stepping over the track, he paused to listen but could not make out so much as the sound of a breath. A quick glance at his D3 showed his signal nearly overlapping with Ken's. Still, the only evidence that anyone was even near the building was his own truncated shadow blocking most of the meager sunlight that pressed in through the open door._ **

**_"Daisuke." The voice in question took Daisuke by surprise, even if it did not sound particularly surprised itself. Daisuke stepped fully into the room, blinking his eyes rapidly in the hope of speeding the removal of the bright spots that were hampering his vision. After what seemed like an eternity, Daisuke's slowly dilating pupils allowed him to distinguish the outline of Takeru's form standing near the center of the room. He took a few cautious steps in that direction._ **

**_"Don't tell me that you're worried." The words were spoken with the disinterested coolness that only Ken had perfected. Daisuke glanced back over his shoulder to where he could barely make out the lanky form, standing just inside the shadows darkened by the light streaming through the open door. He had found Ken._ **

**_"Me? Worried?" Takeru shook his head like he could not quite believe what he was hearing, "Perhaps we should talk about how our great_ oyabun _can't even bring himself to actually enter his dear older brother's room." Takeru let out an uncompromising grunt, "At least," he clarified, shooting a glance towards Daisuke, "not without first calling for backup." Ken's lip curled upward, in a soundless snarl, even as he shrugged indifferently._**

**_"Takeru?" Daisuke questioned softly when both men lapsed back into silence, insult exchange momentarily complete, "What's going on?" Takeru did not take his eyes off of Ichijouji long enough to even acknowledge the question. Undeterred, Daisuke next turned his query toward Ken, "Ichijouji-_ sama _?" but Ken's only response was to clinch his fists tighter, his eyes never leaving Takeru's face._**

**_After what seemed like an eternity to Daisuke, Ken suddenly pushed himself up from where he had been leaning by the wall, pulling his shoulders straight, tight._ **

**_"I came, didn't I?" There was cold steel in Ken's voice even as he answered Takeru's long since asked question. Ken did not like being challenged. And when he was, he found himself loathe to back down, even when good sense told him that that was exactly what Takaishi wanted. Still, for all the strength in Ken's reply, he had been unable to hide the tiny shiver running underneath the icy words. And Takeru must have sensed it too, because he smiled the most hateful smile Daisuke had ever seen._ **

**_"You came." The words were patronizing and clearly mocking, but deep underneath, rang with finality. Whatever Takeru had planned, he seemed to believe it would all end soon, a realization that filled Daisuke's gut with icy fear. Takeru took a few steps in Ken's direction, frowning as Daisuke moved, almost unconsciously, to stand in his path._ **

**_Takeru quickly went to side-step the boy, frowning as Daisuke easily moved with him. "This has nothing to with you Daisuke." Takeru complained, his frown deepening as his second attempt to step around Daisuke was blocked as well. This time it was Daisuke's turn to withhold comment. Instead he did his best to get Takeru to look at him, really see him, and to understand just how much this did have to do with him, even as he moved to block Takeru's path a third time._ **

**_"Daisuke!" It was only then that Daisuke realized that Takeru's refusal to look at him was, in and of itself, Takeru's implicit acknowledgement of the very thing Daisuke had hoped to be able to communicate. He knew. Takeru knew. But he couldn't allow himself to care. Whatever it was that Takeru was trying to gain—it meant more to him than Daisuke. And knowing that hurt Daisuke more than any words or any fist ever could._ **

**_It was only a split second, but Takeru was able to use Daisuke's fleeting distraction to slip around him, walking with purposeful stride to where Ken stood, his eyes firmly pinned on the approaching blond. The violet-blue eyes did not even blink as Takeru stopped suddenly, his own scuffed tennis shoes mere centimeters from the tips of Ken's trim leather Oxfords, and leaned in close._ **

**_"Was there something you wanted, Takeru-_ kun _?" Ken's words were soft, gentle and expressing a vague, almost perfunctory curiosity. The two might have been discussing the weather over a friendly afternoon tea. Takeru smiled, indicating his willingness to play along._**

**_"I've been thinking," Takeru admitted, ignoring the sardonic way Ken tut-tutted at the disclosure, "about how it is we came to call you_ oyabun _."_**

**_"I shouldn't think it too difficult to figure out," Ken scolded, "After all, you were_** there ** _, were you not?"_**

**_Takeru nodded his agreement before leaning in even closer, not bothering to fight the urge to smile at the way Ken's body tightened as Takeru's breath ghosted past his ear. "But I was actually referring to Osamu -_ sama _'s death," he whispered, grinning even as he used his body to brace the dark haired man against the wall._**

**_Ken's response was swift. He shoved the blond man hard enough to send him sprawling on the floor, face tilted up from where he now sat with a look of wry amusement._ **

**_"Oh come on," Takeru chided, hopping easily to his feet even as he brushed off the butt of his jeans, "It's not like you were particularly subtle about it. You pushed him in front of a god-damned bus." But if Takeru was hoping for an emotional response, none was forthcoming. Instead, Ken had resumed his disinterested stare._ **

**_"I think I've made it quite clear, Takashi-_ kun _, that I dislike being touched," Ken intoned, "Please try to remember." The simple words somehow managed to suggest that Ken did not really believe Takeru capable of even that much._**

**_Takeru could not help a small chuckle of genuine amusement that escaped him at Ken's well-played nonchalance. Arrogance was easily the_ oyabun's _greatest strength. Now to see if it was his greatest weakness as well._**

**_"My apologies," Takeru offered, stepping forward again, standing not a half-step further away from where he had been only moments before, seemingly oblivious to the look of vague annoyance Ken shot his direction._ **

**_"Was there something else, Takashi_ -kun _?" Ken queried after Takeru failed to continue._**

**_"Something else?" Takeru mulled the words over carefully before continuing, "Yes. I suppose there is something else." Takeru smiled, ignoring Ken's look of resigned annoyance, "Don't worry," he assured the silent_ oyabun _. "It's a simple thing really," Takeru guaranteed him, "I just asked you here to tell you that this is the end." He smiled at the vaguely interested look that Ken gave him, the first of the conversation, "The end of you." Takeru promised, "And the end of the Tokeisou_ -gumi _."_**

**_"Oh?" Ken questioned, much as if he were listening to some child describe something in which he had nothing more than a polite interest, "Why's that?"_ **

**_Takeru, too, purposefully kept his tone light, answering easily, "Surely, you must know." Takeru smiled, strolling leisurely towards the young_ oyabun _, "Justice," he answered, shrugging indifferently, "Or maybe it is revenge for all the lives you and your family have ruined." Here Takeru's anger seemed to get the better of him, "For all the lives you have_** taken ** _."_**

 **_Ken waited until Takeru had control of himself again before asking, "And how do you expect you'll be able to manage_ ** _that_ **_?" There was a genuine curiosity underlining the soft words._ **

**_"Because, I know, Ken," Takeru insisted, not even noticing the way Ken's lip curled at the dropped honorific, "I_ _know_ _the truth. Everything." Takeru shook his head as if he couldn't believe the utter audacity of Ken's question, "Do you really think that there is anything you can do to stop me?" he asked._ **

**_At first it did not seem as if Ken was going to respond, but after what felt like several long minutes he broke the heavy silence by reaching over to pull the room's door shut. There was a second of total darkness followed by the vaguely insect-like buzz-click of warming fluorescents as the room brightened with artificial light._ **

**_"Everything, eh?" Both Daisuke and Takeru's eyes turned toward where Ken had silently shifted, an easy half meter from where he had been seconds earlier, his hand sliding off the seemingly well-known light switch even as he sent an unperturbed smirk in Takeru's direction._ **

**_"Everything." Takeru confirmed, grinning wolfishly at Ken, even as the older boy narrowed his eyes, "Even what keeps little Ken-_ chan _awake at night." Ken bristled at the pet name, a feral snarl twisting his lips even as Takeru continued, "Even why little Ken-_ chan _can't bring himself to enter Osamu-_ sama _'s room without calling for back-up." Daisuke watched as Ken's entire body seemed to tighten, starting with his fists and continuing until every muscle was tensed with barely repressed emotion, only to have it all drain away, just as quickly, leaving nothing more than the burning hate in Ken's eyes. But the short moment had been enough. Takeru's face shone bright with his victory even as he took a step back._**

**_"Like I said, it's really so simple, isn't it?" Takeru asked, smiling as Ken's dark eyes followed his every movement, "Little Ken-_ chan's _Achilles' heel?" Ken let out a barely audible growl at the continued use of the pet name, but otherwise did not respond._**

**_"To think that it was always so obvious," Takeru continued, shaking his head even as he began to pace about. "At first I couldn't figure out what Taichi had to do with anything," he told Ken, "but then one day I just realized. He knew." Takeru turned suddenly from where he had been pacing, closing the distance between himself and Ken with just a few quick steps, "He knew, didn't he?" he asked the young_ oyabun _, looking for confirmation of what he had already worked out for himself. "He knew about you, about Osamu-_ sama _." Takeru nodded at the way the corners of Ken's mouth tightened, his eyes smoldering with rage._**

**_"Of course he did," Takeru finally concluded for himself, "It all makes sense now. Why else would he have ever put himself in that position? Why would he have risked leaving us behind?" Takeru's blue eyes widened as he felt himself making connections that heretofore had eluded him. "What other possible reason could he have had for risking everything if not some misguided notion of_** _saving_ **_poor little Ken-_ chan _?"_**

 **_There was a flash of what appeared to be genuine respect in Takeru's eyes before the blue darkened once again with disgust. "Be honest now," Takeru chided, a sarcastic edge to the cadence of his voice, "Was Taichi part of your_ ** _brilliant_ **_plan, or did you just get_ ** _lucky_ **_?" Takeru's disgust was obvious. Ken, however, did not seem willing to rise to the bait. If anything, his body had relaxed, his eyes softening._ **

**_"You don't understand anything."_ **

**_It took Daisuke a moment to realize that Ken had even spoken, his voice so soft as to be almost inaudible. Still, there was no denying the hard edge of truth in the simple statement. Daisuke tried to catch the expression on the dark-haired boy's face, but Ken had turned away from him and Takeru, both, his eyes, instead, searching for something on the far side of the room._ **

**_"Do you really believe that someone like you would ever be capable of grasping the entire puzzle from only one or two pieces?" Ken did not even glance at Takeru as he asked his question, moving quickly in the direction he had been staring just moments before, "I guess I should be impressed you've figured out as much has you have," Ken stood before the heavy oak desk that sat against the far wall, "but somehow it's just more…" Ken trailed off, looking as if he were fighting against his own better senses as he reached for the small right hand drawer, his hand shaking slightly even as he forced it to grip the pull and open the drawer._ **

**_The drawer opened easily, but there was no missing the self-depreciating sigh that escaped Ken's thin frame. With a shake of his head, Ken reached in and removed whatever it was that was waiting there before turning around and making his way back to Takeru._ **

**_"So you have it all figured out, eh Takeru-_ kun _?" he asked, his voice warming with vague geniality. He even smiled, a quiet, simple smile that chilled Daisuke to his core. Ken reached out, offering the object he had removed from the drawer to Takeru with easy indifference. Daisuke, however, could not help his sharp intake of breath as he recognized the heavy black make of a gun. Ken's eyes never left Takeru's face even as he held his free hand up, stalling Daisuke's automatic step in their direction._**

**_"It's okay," Ken assured Daisuke even as he gestured for Takeru to take the weapon in question, "Osamu killed Taichi for me," something seemed to catch in Ken's throat, twisting the edges of his mouth with pain momentarily before he continued, "And I killed Osamu for Taichi." Again, Ken offered Takeru the revolver "It's only right," he admitted quietly, though Daisuke was not sure who Ken was trying to convince._ **

**_Takeru reached out, wrapping his hand around the barrel of the gun so that he and Ken now both held it between each other, "You think I won't do it," he surmised, nearly dropping the gun when Ken let go, taking a step back. Takeru grabbed the gun with his left hand, turning it so that he could hold the grip correctly even as he raised the weapon in Ken's direction. "I will."_ **

**_Ken smiled at the haughty confidence in Takeru's voice. "I'm counting on it," he assured Takeru. Daisuke couldn't bear the ugly smirk that seemed to twist Takeru's features, watching instead as Takeru's finger curled around the trigger in eager readiness._ **

**_"Just one question first though," Ken interrupted Daisuke's silent dread. Takeru did not answer, but then he did not pull the trigger either, leaving Daisuke to wonder if that was all that Ken could expect to get in way of consent. Ken must have been thinking the same thing, because with only the token of pauses, he continued, "Why?" Ken allowed the silence to stretch much longer this time before clarifying, "That is to say, is this really about Taichi?" he queried, "Or…" Ken seemed lost in thought, a single finger tapping at his lips as he pantomimed intense concentration, "Or is it Osamu-_ onisama _whom you intend to avenge?"_**

**_This time it was Ken's turn to smile at Takeru's involuntary intake of breath. "What?" Ken asked, his voice mocking, "You didn't really think nobody knew about that did you? That you were the only one who knew_ ** _everything_ **_."_ **

**_"Or was that little piece of information just something I was supposed to take to my grave?" Ken leaned in towards Takeru, his aggression matching, if not exceeding that that Takeru had displayed earlier. "You get to take out the big, bad Ichijouji," Ken sneered, "and your precious Daisuke never needs to know that secretly you were just getting your revenge for being cuckolded. No need for him to know you happily fucked the kind of guy who'd throw you over for his own little brother the minute his own father was cremated. Is that it, Takashi-_ kun _?"_**

**_Ken took a step back, the fury that had been boiling over only seconds earlier draining away until the only emotion left on his face suggested a deeply fatigued resignation. "Well?" he prompted, his arms open._ **

**_"Why?" This time it was Takeru who was asking, "Why Taichi? If you knew, why didn't you ever say anything to me?" Takeru had lowered the revolver, his head cocked to the side as he tried to process the new information that he had just been given, "I would have…" Takeru's voice faded as he considered what, if anything he would have done to help the small, quiet boy he blamed for destroying his optimism. Ken must have guessed his train of thought because he answered with little more than a derisive humph._ **

**_"Don't grow a conscience now," Ken complained, "Not when we're so close to finally dropping the curtain on this ridiculous nightmare." The words were caustic and dismissive, but Daisuke could easily tease out the fear underneath. Now, if only he could believe that Ken's fear was for his life rather than that it might be spared. But, somehow, he just was not able to convince himself that that was true._ **

**_The inherent challenge was enough to goad Takeru into raising the gun again, the end of the barrel hovering no more than a meter from Ken's thin chest. Takeru smiled, "I always imagined you'd put up more of a fight," he admitted, his slight shrug making the revolver bob in an almost carefree manner._ **

**_"You may think you know everything, but really don't have the first fucking clue," Ken replied every bit as nonchalantly, the oddly un-Ken-like obscenity falling easily from his tongue even as his eyes gently fluttered shut, much as if fighting the urge to sleep had suddenly become too much effort. After just a second though, the deep purple eyes flashed back open. "It's just all so perfect," he admitted, smiling at Takeru's obvious confusion, "Osamu kills Taichi, I kill Osamu, you kill me…" Ken's words faded, long hair brushing his shoulder as his head tilted in thought, "But who," he questioned, sending a significant look in Daisuke's direction, "kills you?" He smiled at Takeru's clear discomfiture. "And then…" again he allowed his words to trail off, a humorless smile mocking the idea that Takeru had never bothered considering._ **

**_"Stop this Ken." Daisuke was as surprised to hear his own voice as the other two boys seemed to be. "Enough already, he gets it," Daisuke promised in lieu of Takeru._ **

**_"Hn." Ken ignored Daisuke, motioning instead for Takeru to lift the barrel of his gun higher before tapping his head impatiently, "Thorough is important," he acknowledged, "but so is quick." Ken smiled, "Surely even you can appreciate that, Takashi-_ kun, _given Taichi-_ san _'s demise?"_**

**_"Ken!" Daisuke's voice was insistent even as he made short work of the distance between he and Ken, "Enough!" he repeated, grabbing, shaking even, the taller boy. Ken eyed the hand clinched painfully around his arm but he did not shy away as per usual._ **

**_He did, however, give Daisuke the smallest of heartfelt smiles, his eyes burning warmly, if sadly, for the barest of seconds before he turned them back to Takeru, "Aim carefully," Ken instructed, taking a step towards Takeru in what could only be perceived as a helpful manner, "I won't forgive you if you miss."_ **

**_"You think I won't really shoot?" Takeru asked, raising the weapon a little higher as Ken had suggested._ **

**_Ken shook his head, "No. I think you will," he smiled. Then, without even a hint of premeditation, Ken's right hand curled into a fist, landing with unrestrained force against Daisuke's solar plexus, crumpling the younger boy forward. Ken gently loosened the fingers still fighting to maintain their grip on his arm, lowering Daisuke's bent form to the floor softly before standing back up and taking yet another step in Takeru's direction. They now stood no more than three paces apart, Takeru's keyed-up stance offering an odd foil Ken's quiet demeanor._ **

**_"Quick." Ken prodded, "Before he gets up."_ **

**_Takeru nodded, easily adjusting the gun to account for the shorter distance but unable to keep from hesitating at Daisuke's sharp cry._ **

**" _No!" Daisuke croaked, his voice still rough with pain and the effort of speaking, "Takeru!"_**

**_"_ _Just kill me you god-damned coward!"_ _Ken insisted, his frustration overcoming his innate politesse. But Daisuke was not about to give up either._ **

**_"Stop this Takeru," he begged, watching, hoping for some crack in the icy blue of Takeru's eyes. "Please…" Daisuke struggled to his knees, his eyes never leaving Takeru's even when the pain made it difficult for him to catch his breath. But Ken was not going to wait for Daisuke to gain the upper hand._ **

**_"Enough!" Ken reached forward, wrenching the gun out of Takeru's hands and turning so that he now held it angled down toward Daisuke's head. "Get up." Ken motioned with his head for Daisuke to stand even while Takeru could only watch, horrified._ **

**_With little more than willpower alone, Daisuke managed to get first one foot then the other under himself, standing slowly, his right arm still slung protectively around his middle._ **

**_"Stand up." Ken insisted again, pulling Daisuke fully upright. Daisuke could not help but flinch as he felt Ken place cold steel against his temple. Ken was angry._ **

**_But Ken's attention was entirely on Takeru and it was Takeru whom he addressed, telling him shortly, "Make him leave."_ **

**_It took Daisuke a moment to realize that he was, in fact, the "him" to which Ken was referring._ **

**_Takeru, too, seemed surprised by the order, hesitating before reminding Ken, "I'm not the one who told him to come."_ **

**_Daisuke could feel Ken's hand shaking though the gun resting against the side of his head, though whether it was in anger, annoyance or something totally different, he could not be sure. But, after what seemed like an interminable silence, Daisuke heard Ken release an almost amused sounding breath._ **

**_Daisuke strained his eyes to get a look at Ken and was surprised to see small smile on the taller man's face. He felt, more than saw, the older boy shrug before Ken called his name, "Daisuke."_ **

**_"Yes," Daisuke turned his head to answer Ken without even thinking of the gun still pointed in his direction. But he would have been hard pressed to miss it now as both his eyes rose to note the edge of the barrel not more than a couple of centimeters from his face._ **

**_Ken fought the urge to roll his eyes at the utterly ridiculous way Daisuke's eyes crossed as he considered the weapon pointed directly at his forehead. Ken lowered the gun, waiting until Daisuke's attention was focus once more on himself._ **

**_"Daisuke," Ken repeated before continuing, his voice hard, "Get out of here," Ken nodded toward the door._ **

**_"No." There wasn't even a moment's hesitation before Daisuke answered, nor was there even the vaguest inkling that he might be talked into reconsidering. But Ken was willing to press the point._ **

**" _Get out of here," he said again, "Now."_**

**" _No." This time the response was, if anything, quicker. The look that Ken shot Takeru clearly stated, "I told you so."_**

**" _What do you expect me to do about it?" Takeru asked when it became apparent that Ken had no intention of continuing._**

**_Daisuke watched Ken's lip curl, just the smallest hint of the frustration Ken was feeling leaking out, "Now's not the time for false modesty," Ken's voice had dropped low, dangerous._ **

**" _My, my," Takeru continued, oblivious to the danger in Ken's mood, "Is Ichijouji-_ kun _really suggesting someone might be more capable than he?"_**

**_The gun was up and pointing at Takeru before anyone had a chance to react._ **

**" _Ken…" Ken glanced over toward Daisuke when he heard the soft appeal. Something seemed to cloud his eyes as he considered the possibilities offered by Daisuke's apprehensive tone._**

**" _Would it be enough?" Ken asked himself softly, watching Daisuke all the while. He just could not be sure._**

**" _Ken?" this time Daisuke's tone was questioning. Ken tightened his grip on Daisuke's arm, turning Daisuke to face Takeru even as he pressed the barrel of the revolver into Daisuke's side._**

**" _I won't ask you twice." There was no missing the finality in Ken's voice. Still, Takeru found himself hesitating. He did not really understand why it was that Ken had suddenly decided that Daisuke should leave. Did he think that Takeru would not be able to pull the trigger with Daisuke watching? Did that mean that it was not all a bluff? Is this really what Ken had been planning all along?_**

**_Or was this Ken's way of just convincing him that it was? Ken held the gun. What would keep Ken from shooting him as soon as Daisuke was out of sight? Ken would not worry about any possible consequences. Takeru did not doubt for a moment that the young_ oyabun _would not hesitate to tell whatever story best suited his ultimate purpose._**

**_But what was his ultimate purpose? And did it really matter. Regardless of what Ken intended, the gun was pressed into Daisuke's side and like any venomous creature, pressed hard enough, Ken would strike. So it really became a question of who was to suffer the serpent's wrath._ **

**_And Takeru knew what his answer to that would always be._ **

**" _Daisuke," cold blue eyes met warm amber, "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" he asked, "Get out." Daisuke's mouth opened to argue, but Takeru continued to hold his gaze, "I said," Takeru removed the goggles hanging around his neck, tossing them in the direction of the red headed boy, "Get the fuck out."_**

**_Daisuke dropped his eyes to the goggles held secure to his chest by the hand that had reached out to catch them without a second thought. He did not have long, however, to consider the meaning behind Takeru giving up his most prized possession. Daisuke's eyes turned to Ken as he heard the telltale click of the gun's hammer being pulled back._ **

**" _Daisuke!" Takeru's voice had taken on distinctly insistent edge. Daisuke looked back into bright cerulean eyes, dreading what he would see there, "Leave." Liquid blue resignation and no room allowed for argument."This doesn't have anything to do with you."_**

**_"No." It was the only answer that Daisuke could give. Everything suddenly stopped, Takeru's eyes darkening until the blue was actually more of a grey._ **

**_"Get out of here," Takeru insisted yet again, his eyes doing their best to drill holes into Daisuke's obstinate soul. Daisuke shook his head no, his eyes no more willing to acquiesce._ **

**_"Fine!" Takeru threw his hands up in the air, "I give up," he admitted, "Shoot the son of a bitch," he told Ken. The dark haired man sighed, carefully lowering the hammer of the gun, before dropping the gun to his side._ **

**_"Such a complete idiot," Ken complained, though Daisuke was not sure to whom Ken was referring. "I'm leaving." Ken informed them both. He looked at the weapon in his hand for a moment almost as if he were unsure of how it had gotten there before handing it off to Daisuke. The gun was heavy in Daisuke's grip._ **

**_Daisuke looked down at his hands, one holding Takeru's goggles, the other Ken's gun, and suddenly found himself struck by the realization that he did not really want either. At least, not now. Not when he was so well aware of the meaning inherent in each._ **

**_"Damn it, Ichijouji!" The words startled Daisuke out of his thoughts. "You're not talking your way out of this one," Takeru promised, stepping in front of Daisuke, but not before Daisuke saw him reach for a second gun holstered under his jacket. "I meant it when I told you this was the end." Takeru brought the gun to bear on Ken's still turned back._ **

**_"Stop—" Daisuke would be too late, but still he turned, swinging Ken's gun around toward Takeru in some vain, all-but unconscious hope that the motion might distract Takeru long enough to give Ken a fighting chance._ **

**_But he was too late. Daisuke flinched at the reverberating sound of the gun, answering the surprisingly hollow pop of Takeru's weapon by firing the weapon in his hand more as a defensive instinct than because of any coherent thought. Eyes wide, desperate to protect, what? Himself? Takeru? Ken? Daisuke couldn't be sure. The only thing I could be certain of was the odd way his world suddenly seemed to narrow until all he could see was the confused way Takeru cocked his head, a shaky hand reaching down to gently finger the rapidly blossoming wound on his side._ **

**_And then he smiled. Takeru smiled. An amused, somewhat self depreciating smile. That things could have come to this. That he could have let them come to this. So much for the god-damned plan. Daisuke was at his side, gently prying his fingers from around his gun and dropping it to the floor even as he slowly lowered Takeru down next to it. Ken was there to, the only indication that Takeru had hit his target a smear of red blood on his shirtsleeve._ **

**_But no. Takeru had not even accomplished that much. The blood Ken wore was Takeru's own. Takeru watched as Daisuke grabbed Ken's arm for what had to have been the second time, his own dirty hands smearing the clean pressed shirt further. Smearing it with Takeru's own blood even as Daisuke shook the unresponsive_ oyabun _, shouting something as he pointed toward the door. Or, at least, Takeru imagined he must be shouting something. Somehow, the entire scene came off as nothing more than some over-acted silent film, the player's desperate gestures and mimicry of words hoping and ultimately failing to compensate for the lack of a more natural form of communication._**

**_And then Daisuke was kneeling next to him again, both hands pressing down against hole in his side, utterly ineffective against the gurgle of blood seemly desperate to escape the confines of Takeru's body. Ken still stood over him, a pale hand pressed against a reddened cheek. Had Daisuke struck him? He must have, but Takeru did not know how he could have missed it. Still it was satisfying to see the only emotion that Takeru had ever hoped to elicit from the notoriously stoic_ oyabun _: fear. Only now, after everything that Takeru had tried, after every carefully laid plan, only now did the older boy give Takeru the one thing he had so desperately wanted._**

**_And why? It wasn't fear for his life. Daisuke was frantically working to keep what little was left of Takeru's life from leaking out his side and didn't have a thought to spare for the young_ oyabun _. And after, Takeru thought, after he was gone and cold and nothing more than a small pressed wood box of ashes, what then? Did Ken think that Daisuke would be any kind of threat then?_**

**_No._ **

**_And the truth of that was painted in pain across Ken's face even as he kneeled down next to Daisuke, overcoming his natural squeamishness to press cold, shaking hands against Daisuke's warm, wet ones. Ken was helpless to stop his one chance of death from leaking away._ **

**_"Daisuke," Takeru spoke his name in only the barest of whispers. Daisuke was surprised he even heard it over the pounding of his heart and the odd keening noise Ken kept making. Still, his eyes were instantly on the blond's face and Daisuke was rewarded with a beautiful, heartfelt smile. He smiled back at the quickly fading man, shushing him even as he leaned in closer, hoping for another word. Takeru did not disappoint._ **

**_"Daisuke," he repeated, bright blue eyes expressing a happy hopefulness pale lips could never have managed in their current state, "My Daisuke. Thank you."_ **

**_Daisuke did his best to offer a smile in return, but even without a mirror to judge, he knew his own offering was far from believable. But Takeru did not mind. On the contrary, he found the pain in Daisuke's dark eyes his own bright reward._ **

**_With one last heavy breath, Takeru was gone._ **

-8-8-8-

"Hmmm, hurts, don't it?"

Daisuke did not answer the mocking tone but was unable to stop his eyes from rolling. Shit. Even that hurt.

"Daisuke?" Yamato questioned at the pained groan, his hand gently patting the side of Daisuke's face, "Come on, Daisuke. Open your eyes and look at me." Daisuke let his head roll to the side, looking at the blond sitting on the pavement next to him. Yeah. This was better. Lying down was definitely better than trying to stand. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

"Because you can be a bit of an idiot," the blond answered for him, a friendly smile removing any hurt from the words.

"I'm the idiot?" Daisuke asked, fighting to push the words past a too-thick tongue, "Since when?"

"Daisuke?" Yamato asked again, gently turning Daisuke's face so that his focus shifted from the younger brother to the older. "Don't try to talk, okay? Just stay with me. I have someone coming. Soon," Yamato promised, even as he glanced worriedly out towards where traffic could be heard passing. Daisuke's eyes shifted right at Takeru's bemused chuckle.

"You were right," Takeru admitted, "He really is a complete idiot." Still, Takeru smiled warmly at his brother, an almost wistful look filling his eyes before he rose easily to his feet, brushing off the seat of his jeans even as he stepped around Daisuke to look at the other young man lying on the pavement.

"Ken." Takeru glanced back over his shoulder at Daisuke, frowning at the barely choked out name. Yamato, too, looked up, his eyes searching Daisuke's face before glancing over to where Ichijouji lay.

"It's okay," Yamato hastened to assure Daisuke, a hand on the side of Daisuke's face doing its best to gently turn seeking brown eyes away from the slowly advancing pool of blood surrounding the dark haired man. "He's—" Yamato could not bring himself to actually say the words, finally opting for the somewhat prosaic, "He's at peace."

Takeru cocked an eyebrow at his brother before turning back to Ken, only admitting after a long pause, "You know, he's right." Takeru turned back to Daisuke with a shrug, "The little S.O.B. actually looks happy," he complained before tacking on a muttered, "Figures."

Daisuke smiled at the ill-disguised disgust in Takeru's voice. "Good." It would be useless to pretend he felt otherwise and Takeru would not have believed it anyway. Besides, Daisuke knew that Takeru was really as relieved as he was and it was his relief that angered him as much as anything else. Daisuke smiled. Leave it to Takeru to be stubborn to the end.

"You wouldn't want me any other way," Takeru insisted, his glib response only confirming Daisuke's thoughts. The younger blond frowned at his brother who has usurped his earlier position on Daisuke's right side in an effort to stanch the flow of blood from Daisuke's wound. Yamato did not seem to get the hint, though, his energies focused on his work and so Takeru settled on Daisuke's left hand side, smiling when Daisuke's eyes followed.

"Thanks." The simple gratitude from Takeru was as unexpected as it was rare. "For looking out for him," Takeru clarified, hooking a thumb in Yamato's direction, "or at least, for trying," he chucked, "because you didn't do a real great job."

Daisuke wanted to tell Takeru just where he could put his half hearted thanks and just how good of a job he had managed to do, given what he was working with, but somehow, the words just would not come. Just as well, really. Daisuke could hear the faint echo of sirens heading closer. They would not make it in time. It was almost painful, how happy that made him.

"Alright then," Takeru declared, standing one last time, leaning back to stretch before reaching down and proffering Daisuke a cool hand, pulling him up so that they now stood eye to eye.

"Better?" Takeru asked.

"Yeah," Daisuke agreed, his eyes darting over Takeru's shoulder to where Ken lay. Takeru stepped aside without argument. Daisuke kneeled down next to the dark headed boy, his fingertips ghosting over the blue-black eyelashes resting almost as if in sleep.

"He'll be happy?" Daisuke did not really expect a response from Takeru so the gentle tug of fingers working through the messy snags of his hair surprised him. Daisuke glanced over his shoulder to where Takeru stood, considering the serene face of the older boy.

"I don't know," came the honest response. And that was all that could really be said. They did not know, could not know and would never know.

But they could hope.

And Daisuke fully intended to do so. And judging by the uncomfortable look on Takeru's face, he, too, found it difficult to disregard such a fundamental part of his nature, much to his distaste.

"And Yamato?" Daisuke could not help but worry about the older man, still fighting to stay with the paramedics even as the clearly suspicious police officers tried to move him further away in the hopes of getting some answers.

Takeru, too, was watching his brother, trying to will him the good sense _not_ to deck the young officer that kept trying to pull him over to their vehicle. "He's stronger than you give him credit for," he assured Daisuke, "Stronger than—" Takeru flinched. Right hook to the jaw. He knew it, "Aww, shit..."

" _Such a fucking blond_ ," he heard Daisuke mutter under his breath.

With his best put upon sigh, the younger blond turned to Daisuke, "What about me? Huh?" he asked, "Miss me?" There was no denying the bright twinkle in Takeru's eye. Daisuke just shook his head. Be it ego or audacity behind the question, he knew that there would be no settling it with a simple answer. At least, not peaceably.

Still—

"Idiot," Daisuke chided, sounding more cross than he actually felt. But somehow, even though he spoke harshly, Daisuke could not help his smile, a pure, gentle smile. He reached out, threading his fingers through Takeru's and giving his hand a squeeze, even as he let the blond lead him away without argument or question, though where they were going, Daisuke had no idea. And, in all honesty, he really didn't care. Home was where your heart was, and right now, Daisuke could honestly say that heart was here, walking next to him.

In the end, all Daisuke could do was shake his head, miming a vague disbelief at the blond's audacious question, even as he found himself wondering out loud.

 

"What made you think that you were ever actually gone?"

* * *

  **The End**

* * *

 

_I'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go.  
You've been the only thing that's right, in all I've done._

_And I can barely look at you, but every single time I do,_  
_I know we'll make it anywhere away from here._

 _Light up, light up, as if you have a choice,_  
_Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear._

 _Louder, louder, and we'll run for our lives._  
_I can hardly speak, I understand why you can't raise your voice to say._

 _To think I might not see those eyes makes it so hard not to cry._  
_And as we say our long goodbyes, I nearly do._

 _Light up, light up, as if you have a choice._  
_Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear._

 _Louder, louder, and we'll run for our lives._  
_I can hardly speak, I understand why you can't raise your voice to say._

 _Slower, slower, we don't have time for that._  
_All I want is to find an easier way to get out of our little heads._

 _Have heart, my dear, we're bound to be afraid._  
_Even if it's just for a few days, making up for all this mess._

 _Light up, light up, as if you have a choice._  
_Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear._

_-Run, Snow Patrol_

 


End file.
